


Heartsigh

by johnnysmitten



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bard doubts himself, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Getting to Know Each Other, Hal being a sassy queen, Hurt/Comfort, Loveless Marriage, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Thran is emotional, Threats, fyi the rape/non-con is NOT between Bard and Thran
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 302,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5359928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnysmitten/pseuds/johnnysmitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard Bowman is stuck in an unhappy marriage. He tries his hardest to make things work, but at the end of the day he is lonely and unhappy. By pure chance, he meets a beautiful man named Thranduil and for the first time in years, he feels something. </p><p>Barduil Unhappy Marriage AU, in which both Bard and Thranduil are in bad relationships. They end up meeting up, and you know...fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cagamosis

**Author's Note:**

> HEY!!!  
> A new long fic, omg!  
> So this was 100% inspired by a post made by lorief-leaf on tumblr (I dont know how to do links, but i'll edit this later) about Bard and Thran not really being together because they were already in bad relationships, so they cheat on their partners with each other...and drama ensues!
> 
> Everyone's ages are messed with. Bard is 34, Sigrid is 16, Bain is 14 and Tilda is 8. Thranduil is 29 and Legolas is 9!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! :)

Cagamosis (n.) an unhappy marriage.

* * *

 

At the age of thirty four, Bard had believed that his life would have been more rewarding than what it was. Sure, he had a house, a car, a stable job, three wonderful kids and a wife, but something was clearly missing. Although he was never quite able to figure out what it was that he needed or wanted in his life to make it feel complete. He wondered why he wasn’t happy yet. Why was he working his ass off everyday only to come home and feel empty inside? His children always helped to lift his spirits, though. They were the one light in his life that he wouldn’t trade for all the happiness or money in the world.

Bard knew he hadn’t always felt this way, although it was hard to remember a time when his relationship with his wife was pleasant, instead of stained and forced. When he first married Madison, his high school sweetheart, he had been happy. Their marriage wasn’t always like this. There hadn’t always been this tension controlling their every action, their every behavior. But as the years went by, things seemed to gradually go downhill. Arguments never got resolved, just pushed to the back burner – out of sight, out of mind. Bard tried his best to ignore his wife’s snarky comments, always belittling him in front of the children and making him out to look like a bad person. Bard tried his best, with the children, with his job and with his marriage, but sometimes he made mistakes. He was only human after all. He couldn’t be perfect and he never claimed to be. Madison’s incessant nagging every morning and night wore him down and left him feeling overly tired and utterly drained. He really didn’t know how much more he could take before he reached his breaking point. He could only be pushed so far.

“Bard!”

A heavy sigh escaped Bard’s lips as he tossed around in the empty bed, his wife’s voice pulling him back into reality. He didn’t know why Madison was yelling for him at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. He was sure she must have told him last night if they had early plans, but like usual he shut it out.

Thankfully the kids were all spending time at friends houses, so they didn’t have to be around to witness the near constant state of arguing Bard and Madison were caught up in. Could they ever have a normal, civil conversation? It seemed not. Those days were long behind them now.

“Wake up, Bard!” He heard her calling out with more volume this time. She was grumbling under her breath, some nasty comment, something along the lines of ‘why am I married to such a lazy piece of shit.’

“What do you want?!” Bard yelled back, his patience already worn thin from their disagreement the previous evening.

“We are going to do the groceries. Don’t you remember me telling you this?!” Madison shouted, walking into the room and smacking Bard’s shoulder in hopes of rousing him. Bard wasn’t even asleep anymore; he just didn’t want to deal with her nagging today. He wanted to be left alone. He didn’t understand why she needed him to go to the supermarket with her. Why couldn’t she go alone? Wouldn’t she enjoy the solitude? Bard knew she must be annoyed with him as well, so why not just go alone?

“And you need me there because…?” Bard groaned.

“Because you can’t just expect me to do everything for this family while you’re sleeping!” She yelled, her voice becoming more heated with each passing second. “Now, get up and let’s go. I’m not wasting the whole day.”

“Fine.” Bard grumbled, throwing the covers off of himself and making his way to the closet to get dressed.

“You don’t have to do anything around here. It’s all me. I have to cook, clean, do the laundry, get the kids ready for school. You do fuck all, Bard.”

“Can you stop, Madison? Please? I don’t need to put up with this! Day in and day out, all you do is criticize me.”

“Well maybe you deserve to be criticized. Maybe you need to be taught a lesson.”

“I’m not some child that you can just punish! There is no lesson to learn! The only thing I’ve learned over the years is that you have no heart! You’ve become a real monster, Maddy!” Bard’s voice was beginning to falter now. He could feel his hands shaking, his fingernails digging into his palms as his fists shook at his sides.

“Shut up! Don’t call me Maddy. We aren’t teenagers anymore. Let’s just go and get this over with.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“And when we get back I expect you to start painting Tilda’s room. You were supposed to do it months ago. Jesus, Bard, where are your priorities?”

“I didn’t have time to do it yet. I’ve been working overtime, you know that. The past few Saturdays I’ve been in the shop. And with all that’s been going on with my dad do you really expect the painting to be on the top of my priority list? Really?” Bard couldn’t believe how selfish his wife was being. Lately she had been treating him as if he wasn’t even her husband, as if he was just someone to boss around. He felt mistreated and abused, to be honest.

The brunette was used to just sighing and submitting to whatever his wife asked of him, but after being treated poorly so often he knew that eventually he would snap.

They did the groceries together, Madison picking out everything on her list and carefully putting it into the cart, while Bard pushed the cart around, following her at a close distance. She bickered at him more than was usual for them to do in a public place and Bard bit his tongue once again, not wanting to cause a scene. He didn’t want to be _that_ couple.

Every time Bard picked something off the shelves (mostly different brands of cookies) his wife scoffed and grabbed the item and put it back onto the shelf, scolding Bard as if he were a disobedient child.

Their fighting continued when they got home. They fought about everything possible. From who was going to drive the kids to school in the morning, to who worked the most hours and did the most around the house. Finances were also one of the main topics that they argued about. Madison always told Bard that he needed to work longer hours, yet when Bard did she would complain that he never spent any time with the family. It was a lose-lose situation, there was no winning, ever.

Sometimes Bard just wanted to disappear. The only thing that kept him from running away were the kids. He would never abandon them. Never, _ever_. They meant the world to him. And despite his constant fighting with his wife he knew deep down that he loved her and she loved him. Or at least he hoped she still loved him.

Part of Bard was sure that she was cheating on him, but the other part thought it was just an overreaction on his part. He couldn’t truly believe that his wife would ever do something like that to him.

  

The rest of the week went on as usual. Bickering, small arguments, nasty glances, the silent treatment, everything possible to make Bard feel like just giving up on his wife and walking out.

On Thursday morning Madison had hit him in the face before they went to work because apparently she was so frustrated with her workload that she had to take her anger out on someone. Bard thought it was a pretty lame excuse. Not only had she been verbally abusing him for the past few years, but now she was actually physically abusing him as well.

Bard put the incident out of his mind that day, focusing only on the work he had to do at the shop. He checked engine lights, changed the fluid in the master cylinder, replaced spark plugs, and let his mind wander as he spent most of the day with his head in the engine compartment bay under the hood of various cars. It was a much needed distraction.

“Man, are you okay today?” Percy asked him while they were on lunch.

“Yeah.” Bard sighed, feeling his voice give away that he, in fact, was not okay.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“I’m fine. What makes you think something’s wrong?” Bard questioned. He thought he was doing a good job of hiding his feelings. He didn’t think he was so blatantly obvious.

“Well, for one, Alfrid has been bitching at you all morning and you haven’t snapped back once yet, which is a new record for you, and two, you’ve been working faster and harder than I’ve ever seen you work in the past five years. And I know you Bard, you only drown yourself in this much work when there is something on your mind.” Percy concluded, shooting a concerned look in Bard’s direction.

“Well, I guess things have been a little strained at home.”

“Wife?” Percy guessed.

“Yeah. What else would it be?” Bard answered derisively. Obviously it was his wife that was putting him in such a foul mood.

Percy gave Bard a questioning look, but Bard just waved it off. He didn’t want to go into details, and it’s not like Percy didn’t already know how Bard felt about his marriage. He had called his friend many times before in the middle of the night ranting and raving about how badly she treated him. Percy knew, therefore he didn’t push.

Bard sighed and changed the topic, discussing problems at work and the ridiculous things his kids did. He didn’t want to focus on the issues of his marriage. There was no point in letting that crap ruin his day at work when he knew he would be faced with the onslaught of his wife’s anger once he arrived back at home.

“When was the last time you did something fun? Something just for you?” Percy asked as they clocked back in at the shop and picked up where they left off before their lunch.

“Hmm.” Bard sighed, taking a moment to really think about it. He couldn’t even remember when he last did something just for himself. Everything he did these days was either for Madison or the kids. He didn’t have any leisure time. “I honestly don’t remember.”

“You need to get on that. Do something you enjoy, then everything else won’t feel as shitty. You gotta be selfish sometimes.” Percy said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, it’s not that simple. Maddy would get pissed at me if I just went out and did my own thing. I’d never hear the end of it.” Bard explained. He wished he could be in loving supportive marriage like Percy was.

Percy sighed, shaking his head as Bard continued on his rant.

“It’s like she doesn’t even want me to have friends! Remember a few months ago when you asked me to go out for drinks? Well that turned into a massive argument because of how ‘irresponsible’ it would be! She treats me like I’m some idiot or something. Like I’m a child that needs to be taken care of!” Bard grumbled, throwing the wrench he was using to take off the tires of a car, down onto the ground.

“Bard, promise me you will do something you enjoy, something without her involved?”

“I’ll try.”

“Maybe get back into archery? You always enjoyed that.” Percy suggested, picking up the wrench and sitting it on the workbench.

“According to her, archery is way too dangerous and a foolish thing to do if you have kids.” Bard sighed, grabbing the wrench again and beginning to loosen the tires. “Let’s just drop this subject, Perce, before I lose my shit.”

“Alright. Sorry, Bard. I won’t say anything else. Just take my advice, please.”

“I will.”

 

That evening Bard got home at a fairly decent hour. He refused to stay late, not because he didn’t want to do the work, but because he knew his wife would give him shit. He really needed a good night’s sleep if he was going to start painting Tilda’s room in the morning.

As Bard entered the house, he put on his best happy face, smiling despite knowing that Madison was probably still angry at him. He hoped that if he was in a positive mood that it might help lift her mood as well.

“Hey, honey! I’m home.” Bard called out as he took off his shoes and slung his jacket over the back of the couch as he walked into the living room.

“You’re late, Bard.” Madison said in a condescending tone, shaking her head.

“Not really.” Bard said, still trying to put on a faux smile.

“Yes, really.” She chided, walking past him and grabbing his jacket from where he left it on the back of the couch. “And will you ever learn what a hanger is for? My god!”

Bard sighed, completely exasperated. What was the point in even trying? There was no way his positivity could ever rub off on someone so innately negative.

The sound of little feet approaching had a quick silencing effect on both adults. Bard greatly disliked the idea of any of the kids witnessing their fighting. It wasn’t right for them to have to deal with the questions that would ultimately arise in their curious minds.

“Hey, Da!” Tilda squealed, grasping at Bard’s leg but flinching and pulling away when she realized how much grease was on his pants. “Ick! You’re all dirty!”

“Yes, darlin’ I know. Lots of messy jobs today. How was school?” Bard asked, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“It was good.” Tilda replied, giggling and smoothing her hair after Bard had left it sticking up in odd angles.

“That’s good. Where are your sister and brother?”

“They went out to friends houses!”

Madison sighed. “Maybe you’d know where they were if you bothered to involve yourself in their lives, Bard.” She scoffed, obviously not caring if Tilda was around to experience her bad mood first hand.

“Seriously? Who goes to all their school functions? Plays, rehearsals, parent teacher meetings? That’s all me, not you. I never miss anything; you on the other hand never do much to show you care.” Bard spat out the words like it would kill him to keep it in any longer. He quickly tried to compose himself in front of his youngest daughter, apologizing softly, hoping that he didn’t upset her.

“Please don’t fight.” Was all Tilda said, the words coming out quietly as a little pout formed on her lips.

“Sorry baby girl.” Bard said again, leaning down to kiss the top of her head while his wife just shook her head and shrugged.

Madison was never one for apologies. Not with the kids, and especially not with Bard. It was as though she never believed she did anything wrong, or that no one was worthy of an apology. Bard couldn’t tell which it was. Probably a bit of both.

She hung up Bard’s jacket with a grunt and went off in the direction of the kitchen where the microwave had beeped. Clearly she wasn’t making dinner, just eating leftovers again. Bard didn’t mind doing the cooking, for everyone or just himself, but he did enjoy eating dinner together at the table as a family. Maybe he was just old-fashioned. He knew his wife didn’t share his values.

“Da, are you going to come to the movies with me and Mommy?” Tilda questioned, her big eyes searching Bard’s own as she bounced on her feet, following Bard into the kitchen.

“No, sweetie.” Madison cut in before Bard could speak. “You father has to get your room all set up for tomorrow.”

Bard shot his wife an incredulous look as Tilda pursed her lips in confusion.

“What’s tomorrow?” The little girl asked.

“Tomorrow your father has work to do.” Madison raised her eyebrows as she glanced at Bard yet again. “He’s going to finally paint your room. Am I right, Bard?” She sat down at the table with her leftover stir-fry from the night before, eyes still locked with Bard’s as she awaited his response.

It was so typical of her to bring this up in front of Tilda, where she knew Bard had to say yes. There was no out, because if Bard refused to do what she asked then he would seem like a bad person, so he sucked in a breath before responding.

“Yes. I’m doing the painting tomorrow. So I guess I won’t be able to go to the movies with you.” Bard replied, the fury building inside of him because he would have loved to go out and do something with his daughter, but of course his wife enjoyed torturing him and making his life miserable.

“Just us girls tonight, Til.” Madison said, chomping on her food in an annoying manner. Everything she did these days was getting under Bard’s skin. He was seriously about to lose it on her.

“Aww.” Tilda sighed, pouting again as she gave Bard a hug before he retreated up the stairs to go take a nice hot shower.

By the time Bard was finished washing up and putting on fresh clothes it was a little past seven o’clock. He went back downstairs only to see that the house was now empty. He didn’t care to make any food for himself but he went to the kitchen anyway to see if there was anything he could eat quickly. His eyes immediately caught sight of a piece of paper left on the table with his wife’s neat cursive print taking up most of the page.

_‘I did not want you to come with Tilda and I. You don’t deserve to spend time with her. You are a bad influence. When we return I expect you to have been productive with your time alone. STOP BEING SO LAZY! And don’t bother sleeping in our bed tonight. You can have the couch. I can’t bear to look at you.’_

_What the fuck._ Bard seethed as he read and re-read the note. What kind of a person would just leave a note of that caliber out on the table? What if Sigrid or Bain had come home and read it before Bard had a chance to? The fury took over all of Bard’s thoughts, turning them poisonous and toxic.

He made a split second decision. He was going to go out. He wanted food and he wanted to drink. Lots and lots of alcohol may be the only thing at this point that could wash away the callous thoughts from his head.

It hit him suddenly. He didn’t think he was in love anymore. In fact, he knew he wasn’t. But letting the thought ruminate for too long was dangerous. The more he addressed the feeling, the more it became a reality. He had pushed it to the back of his mind for so long, not wanting to think about the possibility that there may be no love left in his marriage for fear that his thoughts held too much weight and that the truth would bring with it far too much pain.

He knew he couldn’t be with someone who treated him like the dirt on the bottom of their shoe. Of course the idea hurt him. He didn’t want to be one of those people who fell out of love with their spouse, but he couldn’t help it. It was a one-sided marriage. Bard tried endlessly to make things work and he did not get the same response from his wife. She just did everything possible to push him farther away. Were her actions calculated, he wondered? Did she deliberately plan everything out so that Bard would get fed up and leave, or did she not think about those sorts of things?

Bard barely realized what he was doing before he was out of the house and slamming the car door shut as he got in the driver’s seat. He was going to the pub. He didn’t give a shit what his wife would say when he returned. _If_ he returned.

The drive to the pub seemed much shorter than it was in reality. Bard was barely paying attention to anything save for the frustration building inside his body. He felt it all over. A tingling emptiness, a hollow sort of pain that only came from being in an utterly hopeless situation. It felt like he had been punched in the stomach and was gasping for air, only to be punched again when he did finally catch his breath.

He parked quickly in the first empty space he saw, making his way into the pub with heavy footsteps. The place was already pretty full seeing as it was a Friday night, but Bard didn’t care. He was in his own world anyway. He just wanted a drink.

There was an empty stool at the end of the L-shaped bar that Bard hurriedly sat down on before any other patrons could snatch it away from him. It was best to be at the bar, he decided; the closer to the alcohol, the better.

Of course Bard had to end up sitting next to some rowdy twenty-somethings who made it pretty obvious with all their loud chatter that one of them was celebrating a twenty-first birthday. The noise was so loud Bard could almost taste it in the air around him, the sounds almost deafening in volume.

Bard quickly ordered a drink, not paying much attention to the young men beside him. It wasn’t too hard to ignore them…that is until one of them stood up abruptly and backed into Bard almost causing him to spill his drink all over himself. He cursed under his breath silently, shooting a disgruntled look in their general direction but of course they didn’t even notice.

Maybe he could just find a different place to sit, a better place to wallow where he wasn’t surrounded by happy people.

It was then that Bard looked up, eyes searching for another possible empty seat that he spotted the most gorgeous person he had ever seen. A beautiful man was sitting at the other end of the curved bar, giving Bard a perfect view. How had he not noticed such beauty sooner?

Bard could hardly make out the man’s face due to the dim ambient lighting of the pub along with the fact that the man was looking down scribbling onto a napkin. It was still very obvious how absolutely stunning he was.

He had long white-blonde hair, longer than Bard had ever seen on a man, draped over one broad shoulder that he delicately ran his hand through a few times trying to rid himself of the discomfort of having it hanging in his face. That hair looked unbelievably soft, so soft that it made Bard crave the feel of it under his fingers.

Bard shook his head and ran his hand over his face trying to wipe the thoughts straight out of his mind. He was a married man, he should not be thinking about touching some random man’s hair. As he took another sip of his drink, he looked back over to steal another glimpse of the beautiful man.

Suddenly, with an inquisitive look, the man glanced up from whatever he was writing or drawing, only to lock eyes with Bard, and my god, what magnificent icy blue eyes they were. The brunette felt the man’s gaze pierce into his soul.

 _‘Shit. Look away. You’ve been caught staring.’_ Bard told himself frantically, his thumb beginning to circle the rim of the glass nervously as he darted his eyes around in an attempt to ease his anxiety.

Surprisingly, the beautiful blonde smirked at him before letting his eyes fall back to the napkin he was scrawling on.

Bard couldn’t help but fawn over his beauty. He had flawless porcelain skin, high cheekbones, a perfectly defined jaw line, and soft pouty lips. Well, Bard was just guessing that they were soft; they surely looked like they would be. Bard had never, in all his thirty-four years on this earth, seen such an attractive human being. His beauty was almost ethereal.

The brunette felt his heart clench, as if a bunch of butterflies were attacking him from the inside. He felt drawn to this man, and he knew if he was carefree and brave he would just strut over and kiss the man on the lips. But unfortunately Bard was neither carefree nor brave, not to mention the fact that he was _married_.

He mentally kicked himself for entertaining such thoughts about a complete stranger. He tried to just keep his eyes to himself, or fixated on the drink in front of him at least.

Bard ordered another drink after he realized his first was now empty, easily ignoring the young men beside him now that he was caught up in his thoughts about the pretty blonde man, who very blatantly kept looking in Bard’s direction. The brunette could feel those eyes searing into his very being, as if they had some sort of telepathic connection.

 

By the time Bard was on his sixth drink, he could not stop the thoughts in his head; they played on repeat and showed no signs of dissipating. He couldn’t stop thinking about how the beautiful stranger’s skin would taste, how it would feel to push him against a wall and ravish his mouth with filthy kisses.

Bard had always known that he was bisexual, but unfortunately his wife was quite strongly against his sexuality, so it always felt like he was repressing it, like he had to be someone else. He had told her about it only years into their marriage for fear that she would not be receptive and of course, he had been right. She simply scoffed and ended up becoming insecure and paranoid. Whenever an attractive man was anywhere in their vicinity she would make a remark along the lines of “would you sleep with him?” It even happened when they watched movies – “how about him, does he do anything for you?” Her words were always seeping with jealousy and insecurity and it made Bard feel extremely uncomfortable and regretful that he had ever opened up to her at all.

Although he was 100% certain of his sexual orientation, Bard had never actually been with a man before. He met his wife when he was very young and she had been the only person he had ever been intimate with. But now, his brain supplied him with maddeningly perfect images of what it would be like to engage in sexual activity with the gorgeous blonde man.

Bard repressed a sigh when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He didn’t look at it for a few minutes though, knowing exactly who it would be. It was late now, almost midnight, of course his wife would be trying to contact him. She was probably livid that he was not at home. The thought of her worrying about him almost made him smile.

To be honest, he really didn’t care about how she felt, the alcohol doing a good job of soothing him, letting him drift easily into a comfortable state of indifference.

The time had gotten away from him, he knew that. He had spent most of the night sulking to himself in between short calculated glances in the direction of the blonde man. The eye contact they made every now and then did a wonderful job of distracting him from his marital issues. The longer their gazed would linger, the better Bard felt. At least someone wanted to look at him.

When he finally pulled his phone out it started buzzing again. Madison was calling, but he ignored the call. He didn’t want to have to talk to her right now, no. His vision was blurred making the screen dance around brightly, almost hurting his eyes. He opened his messages.

[from: Madison]10:59pm: Where the fuck are you???

[from: Madison]11:05pm: BARD!!!!

[from: Madison]11:07pm: ANSWER ME

[from: Madison]11:08pm: Where did you go?!?!

[from: Madison]11:41pm: Fine. Don’t bother coming home tonight then.

He read the messages over and over, taking deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves before typing out a reply.

[to: Madison]11:54pm: OKayy. I wony come home thrn. gooodnight.

He didn’t have much to say to her. He looked over the message before sending it, spelling mistakes and all. If she didn’t want him to come home, then that was fine. He wouldn’t.

Within a few seconds, he got a response. Bard chuckled to himself as he pictured his wife sitting in bed staring at the screen of her phone just waiting for what he would say. It was pathetic.

[from: Madison]11:55pm: Are you drunk?! What the fuck is wrong with you? Where are you?

[to: Madison] 11:56pm: I said goodnight noe fuck off abd go ti bed! Im done

Just as Bard shoved his phone back into his pocket, the bartender appeared in front of him holding out a drink.

“For you.” The bartender said, sitting the drink down in front of the confused brunette.

“But…I didn’t order this.” Bard mumbled, pushing the drink back. He wasn’t one to refuse a drink but at the same time he didn’t want to pay for something he didn’t even order.

“From the blonde man you’ve been eyeing all night.” The bartender replied nonchalantly as Bard raised his eyebrows questioningly, a little gasp escaping his lips.

Bard looked over to where the blonde was sitting, only to see that he was no longer there. Where did he go, Bard wondered? The brunette’s eyes darted around, head turning to search for the blonde. He quickly spun around on the barstool, not caring how obvious he looked. He didn’t want the man to get away. He may never find out his name now. Or get his number.

The crowd had died down a little now but still Bard could not spot the beautiful blonde man.

Bard croaked out a sigh, grasping the drink and taking a languid sip, letting the liquid coat the inside of his mouth. It was extremely smooth going down, only leaving a slight tingly burning sensation at the back of his throat. This was definitely the best drink the brunette had had so far. He wondered what is was, how much the man had paid for something as good as this.

Despite not wanting to admit the truth to himself, Bard let the feeling of disappointment wash over him. He wished the man would come back. He wished he hadn’t been such a coward. He scolded himself internally for not going and talking to the man when he had the chance. Now, it was too late.

The phone in his pocket began buzzing again, reminding him that he was in fact a married man and should not be thinking about some stranger the way he was. He turned his phone off. Tonight, he didn’t care.

Unfortunately, Bard’s mind was still clear enough to realize that after this drink he probably shouldn’t indulge in anymore. When the last drops of liquid were drained from his glass he paid the bartender and made a quick stop in the bathroom before heading to the front door.

His wife told him not to bother coming home, but where would he go? Could he go to Percy’s house? No, he didn’t want to bother his friend at such an hour. He figured he would just sleep in his car; it would not be the first time he had to do such a thing to escape his wife’s wrath. He was in no condition to drive; he was coherent enough to know that. He would never put himself or anyone else in danger.

He sauntered slowly out of the pub, taking careful steps so he wouldn’t fall on the concrete. The world was spinning. He felt it so much more now that he was standing. It hit him like a ton of bricks and he had to sit down. He turned around quickly, knowing that there was an old picnic table beside the pub’s entrance. His mind didn’t have enough time to catch up to his body and before he knew it he slammed into something – or someone.

“Oh shit, sorry!” Bard blurted out, his eyes still instinctually closed from the fear of impact.

“It’s fine.” A deep melodic voice replied.

When everything stopped spinning quite as fast Bard let out a shaky gasp at the sight in front him, before he completely froze, his body going rigid in shock.

The blonde man.

Up close he was even more beautiful. Those light blue eyes were boring into Bard’s. The brunette’s face paled and his breath caught in his throat before his expression shifted into disbelief.

“I-it’s you.” Bard choked out. Why was his voice failing him now?

“It’s me.” The blonde replied, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

“I – uh – I looked –but, uh… you were gone - ” Bard stuttered, unsure of what to say now that he was actually in the presence of the person he had been fantasizing about the entire night.

“I didn’t want to leave without seeing you again.” The man said, voice smooth like dripping honey.

Bard didn’t know what to say to that. All he could hear was his heart thumping in his head. His legs felt like they were about to give out, and when he didn’t reply, the blonde man grasped his arm and led him gently to the picnic table where Bard could finally let his body collapse.

“I’m Thranduil, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

 _Thranduil._ What an odd, yet perfect name for such a perfect creature. Bard let the name play on repeat in his head a few times before offering his own.

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Bard.”

They shook hands, albeit a little sloppily, it was still rather amazing to feel the man – Thranduil’s – warm hand lightly gripping his own.

“Unfortunately, I have to get home, but I didn’t want to leave without speaking to you.” Thranduil said, tilting his head as he fished around in his pocket for something.

“Oh.” Was all Bard could say. He wasn’t sure whether it was the alcohol or Thranduil that he was drunk on.

“I wanted to give you this.” Thranduil said, holding out a napkin – the one he had been scribbling on earlier.

Bard took the napkin and inspected it, inhaling sharply when he saw the sketch of himself. It was absolutely brilliant. Thranduil must have drawn this portrait of Bard when they were sitting at the bar. So, that’s what he was scrawling on the napkin the entire time. Bard was rendered breathless. It was such a simple act, but it left him feeling warm inside, a kind of warmth he hadn’t felt in years.

“Wow. D-did you – you drew this?” Bard asked, still in awe of the sketch he held gingerly in his hands.

“Yes, I did. You inspired me.” Thranduil smiled, pulling a pen out of his pocket and taking the napkin back from Bard.

Bard couldn’t take his eyes off the blonde as he wrote something onto the flimsy piece of paper. He was gorgeous in the moonlight. His flaxen hair gleamed radiantly under the white light – it was glorious. Bard was utterly captivated by his beauty.

“Here.” Thranduil handed the napkin back to Bard as he made to stand up. “I left you my cell number. Text me if you’d like.”

The blonde began walking away in measured steps and all Bard could do was nod and stare.

He couldn’t believe his luck.


	2. Nepenthe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Thranduil's POV.   
> It may be a little slow but I want to establish his relationship with his awful significant other.   
> The next chapter will have some barduil, I promise.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

Nepenthe (n.) something that can make you forget grief or sorrow.

* * *

The day started out like shit. There was no other way to put it.

The air outside was damp, almost suffocating. Thick billowing clouds were forming in the sky, an oncoming storm just waiting for the perfect moment to wreak havoc. The sun hadn’t been out for days. It was typical November weather – cold, dreary and depressing.

Thranduil let out a heavy sigh, trying to rid his body of its current grogginess. He parked his car and turned off the engine, leaving the keys in the ignition as he lazily pushed open the door. No one would try to steal his car here.

The crunching sound of gravel and dead leaves under his feet were almost enough to rouse him from his state of exhaustion. But at this point the world could be ending and he would easily be able to sleep through it – that’s how tired he was. He felt it deep within the marrow of his bones. It was an all-consuming sort of fatigue; it was relentless.

Sometimes he wished he was a bear so he could just hibernate for the winter instead of having to face the cold every day. Thranduil absolutely hated cold weather.

He didn’t end up getting much sleep last night. He wasn’t able to get relaxed or comfortable for long enough to let sleep claim him, so instead he spent the night hunched over at his desk sketching. Thranduil hadn’t been inspired in a while so it was nice to taste the excitement of being able to create something again.

He had hid all of his drawings from last night from his boyfriend. Thranduil couldn’t very well let Galion see all the drawings he had done of another man - that might raise a few unwanted questions. So he did what he had always done. He locked up his drawings in a small safe that he kept in the basement located deep behind the plethora of holiday decorations he’d accumulated over the years. He knew Galion would never be able to find it, nor would he even know where to start looking if he was desperate to snoop.

A harsh breeze pulled Thranduil back to reality, distracting him long enough to stop thinking about what Galion would do if he ever found the hidden safe in the basement.

He walked along the small man-made path until he could go no further, now heading out onto the grass, taking slow steps as if he were trying to prolong his reason for coming here. His grip on the bouquet of white roses tightened as he continued walking. He could feel the thorns digging into the palm of his hand but the pain did little to soothe his mind. He had picked these flowers from his garden early this morning before Galion had woken up. His boyfriend couldn’t stop him if he wasn’t awake to know what Thranduil was doing or where he planned on going.

Finally he reached his destination, sighing and closing his eyes as he came to a stop. He stood on the grass; his shoes wet with morning dew before he crouched down and placed the flowers in front of the gravestone.

Thranduil traced the engravings with a shaky hand, fingers lightly hovering over each letter as he inhaled deeply. He was never able to breathe properly when he visited his wife’s grave. No matter how much time went by he would always be forcing himself to hold back tears.

_Emelia Greenleaf 1986 – 2010._

Looking at that name, and those dates hurt too much, the pain causing Thranduil to quickly avert his eyes. He focused on his fingers tracing the inscription, at his bruised wrist. He observed himself as if he were someone else, as though he were looking at himself through someone else’s eyes. He sat down, leaning his back against the cold granite stone as a sob wracked his body. It was impossible to hold it back. He couldn’t stop himself from crying.

Thinking about the stark contrast of what his life used to be with his wife, to how vastly different it was now, painted a grim picture in his head. It was a lonely, desolate picture. What had once a beautiful masterpiece, was now a damaged and ruined portrait of despair. The thought made Thranduil’s muscles tense as he once again examined his sore wrist.

Fucking Galion.

Thranduil wondered what his wife would think of the pathetic situation he had gotten himself into. Would she expect this sort of thing from him, or would she be disappointed? Thranduil was definitely disappointed. He didn’t know when he had become such a pushover, when he had started letting himself be manipulated so easily, but he could hardly leave now. Not when the threats continued to build more and more with each passing day.

After his eyes could produce no more tears, Thranduil sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of the gravestone. He stood slowly, rubbing at his cheeks where the salty tears had dried, and smoothed out his jacket.

“I’ll come back to visit you soon. And maybe I’ll actually have something to say next time. I miss you.” Thranduil murmured aloud before retreating back to his car.

On the drive home, Thranduil let himself get caught up in thoughts of the previous night and the handsome man that he could now not stop sketching. Bard, was what he introduced himself as. From the moment the dark haired man had walked into the bar, looking like the definition of misery, Thranduil had felt himself compelled by and drawn to the man like he had never experienced with anyone before. There was a sort of magnetism between them. They kept sneaking glances at one another, as if their eyes were beckoning each other.

_Look at me._

Thranduil could not help but stare. It was the first time in a long time since he had felt so inspired to draw. Lately, his art had come to a standstill, the weariness of everyday life seeming to drown his inspiration, but along came Bard who zapped the creativity right back into him.

It wasn’t only the fact that Bard had inspired Thranduil that drew the blonde to the other man; it was his kind eyes and warm smile; there was a gentleness about him. For so long Thranduil’s life had been devoid of compassion that seeing it so transparently in this man’s soul almost made the blonde weep. It seemed as though Bard wore his heart on his sleeve and Thranduil could read him quite easily - he was broken.

It was a strange feeling to desire someone he didn’t even know, and although it was not odd for Thranduil to feel attraction to strangers, he had never felt the pull quite this strong.

Thranduil both scolded and praised himself for his behavior the previous evening. He had quite literally defied Galion’s ‘orders’ by going out in the first place, but he felt he should be able to have some time for himself. He needed the time to contemplate his unfortunate situation. He was not one to sit around wallowing, feeling sorry for himself, but he did like to have alone time to process things that he felt he had no control over.

He hadn’t been too worried about going out since Legolas was at his friend Tauriel’s house for the evening. Thranduil was headed to pick up his son now, sending him a quick text while he was stopped at a red light. It wasn’t as if he had left his son alone with his boyfriend. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving Legolas alone with Galion for too long, unless it was absolutely necessary.

His boyfriend was not very fond of his son, seeing Legolas only as a pawn in the game of gaining complete control over Thranduil. It made the blonde man sick to his stomach. Galion used Legolas to his advantage, making sure that Thranduil knew that his son could very well be in danger if he did not submit to his boyfriend’s wishes. It was a sad excuse for a relationship but Thranduil didn’t know how to leave. He did not love Galion, not anymore; he hardly felt anything for him these days, besides fear. The fear was always present, always swirling around in the back of his mind, reminding him what his boyfriend was capable of.

It scared Thranduil to his core that he had ended up with someone so violent and controlling, never imagining that Galion would have turned out to be this way when they first met. At the beginning of their relationship everything had seemed perfect, _too good to be true_ as they say, and that alone should have been a red flag, but Thranduil had been blind then. Now he saw it for what it really was.

The constant threats easily pushed Thranduil into letting Galion have almost anything his greedy heart desired. Thranduil knew now that his boyfriend was only with him because of his financial status. Still, Thranduil played along, pretending he cared about Galion when really that was the farthest thing from the truth. If he could, he would leave, but he had faced far too many threats to pull such a bold move. Galion was ruthless – he would never let Thranduil out of his grasp, making it impossible for the blonde to free himself and his son from the abusive circumstances. Galion had perfected his tactics, his ability to keep Thranduil in chains, unable to ever get away unharmed.

These kinds of thoughts were weighing on Thranduil’s mind. He didn’t want to be worried all the time. But that was the truth of it – he was always worried. He worried about how Galion would react once he arrived home. He wondered what his punishment would be. He worried about how his boyfriend would treat his son in response to Thranduil’s actions. Every thought was soaked in apprehension.

Thinking about it would do no good though, the outcome would be the same whether he worried about it or not. There was nothing he could do now. The damage had been done.

So, trying to distract himself, he let his mind trail back to the image of Bard. Thranduil was impressed with himself for actually waiting around for the man after he had bought him a drink, instead of fleeing on impulse. It was a courageous move giving the dark haired man his number and telling him to text, something that was so unlike Thranduil, yet the way Bard looked at him was oddly comforting so he could not resist. He knew he would curse himself forever if he didn’t take matters into his own hands. There was nothing to lose, no harm in trying. For all Thranduil knew, Bard could be happily married and would never even bother contacting him, but it did not hurt to try.

In all honesty, Thranduil had no idea what his own intentions were, all he knew was that he was captivated by Bard and longed to have a real connection with another human being. Maybe his idea of a connection was skewed. Did he want to be friends with Bard? Did he want to hang out with him? Did he want to call him at two in the morning for a quick fuck? He wasn’t sure of what he wanted.

He kept telling himself that he just wanted a friend. He hadn’t made a new friend since he was in college, and that was almost ten years ago. Thranduil’s only real friend was Haldir.

He really needed someone else to talk to, someone else to spend time with. He wondered if Bard could be that person.

\---

Thranduil turned into Tauriel’s – or rather, her parents’— driveway, shaking out his hair as he put the car in park. Running his hands over his face, he tried to shut out all of his thoughts.

Instead of going to knock on the door, Thranduil decided to just call his son to let him know that he was there. Legolas told his father that he would be out in a minute.

Thranduil took out his phone and read through his messages as he waited for his son and tried to quiet his mind. He inhaled a large breath of air before exhaling slowly through his nose, attempting to gain full composure before his son showed up.

A few minutes passed before the passenger door swung open quickly and a flash of blonde hair entered the car.

“Legolas.” Thranduil smiled in greeting to his son.

“Hey, ada. Sorry I took longer than I said, but Tauriel just got a new kitten and he’s the cutest thing ever, you’ve got to see him!” Legolas said, the words spilling out quickly, without once stopping for a breath.

The boy let out a gasp as he hurriedly buckled up his seatbelt and tossed his overnight bag onto the floor.

Thranduil chuckled at his son’s boundless energy and enthusiasm. “So I take it you enjoyed yourself.” He said, more as a statement than a question.

“Yes, of course, I always do!” Legolas replied, swinging his legs as he squirmed in his seat.

“Good. I’m glad. What did you and Tauriel do?” Thranduil asked, trying his best to make easy conversation with his son before they got home and had to endure whatever mood Galion was in.

“Oh, just stuff.” Legolas said. “We braided each other’s hair, made a massive pillow fort in the living room, watched movies and played with the cute little kitten.”

“Well that’s good. Sounds like you had fun.” Thranduil smiled, happy to know that his son had an enjoyable time with his friend.

Legolas hummed in agreement before his voice dropped. “And now…it’s over.” The boy sighed, pushing his hair out of his face as he looked over at Thranduil with big pleading eyes. “Do we really have to go home?”

Thranduil could pick up on his son’s expression from the corner of his eye and knew immediately why Legolas did not want to go home.

A sharp pang of guilt stabbed Thranduil in the chest. He hated that Legolas was unhappy because of a situation he had put them in, a situation he couldn’t get them out of. He hated himself for compromising his son’s safety and wellbeing.

“Where do you suggest we go, then?” Thranduil questioned, swallowing the lump in his throat as he tried his best to hide the shakiness of his voice. He could not show weakness in front of his son, he needed to be strong.

“Anywhere but home…he’s there, isn’t he?” Legolas grumbled as he traced patterns in the condensation on the window.

“Yes, I assume he is.”

“Do you even love him?” Legolas asked under his breath, probably unsure if he was allowed to ask such a question.

Thranduil didn’t say anything for a few seconds, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

“I’m not sure, Legolas. It’s complicated.” Thranduil finally answered, not keen on having to discuss these sorts of matters with his nine year old son. It was difficult to explain to a child why he was still with someone he didn’t even love.

“He doesn’t deserve you, ada.” Legolas sighed and in that moment he sounded years older than he was. It made Thranduil’s heart ache knowing that his son believed he deserved better.

“You think so?”

“You’re too good for him.” Legolas confirmed, nodding his head.

“Thanks, Leggy.” Thranduil said, reaching over to run his fingers through his son’s long hair that was so much like his own. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

\----

When they arrived back at the house, Legolas rushed in ahead of Thranduil, heading straight for the staircase. Thranduil heard the thud of Legolas shutting his bedroom door. At least one of them was able to escape Galion’s wrath.

“Thran?!” A harsh voice called out from the living room.

“Yeah?” Thranduil answered, hanging his coat on the hook behind the door as he sighed deeply and went to find Galion. He didn’t know why he bothered seeking out the man when he knew he was only going to be yelled at.

“Where have you been?” Galion grumbled from where he was lounging on the sofa, both feet up on the coffee table in front of him.

“I went to get Legolas, clearly.” Thranduil said in an annoyed tone of voice. Galion always brought out the worst in him.

“That’s only a half truth, Thran.” Galion said, locking his eyes with the blonde’s. “You went to the fucking cemetery again, didn’t you?”

“Why does that matter?” Thranduil questioned, furrowing his brow as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Because, it’s stupid. She’s dead, Thranduil. Get over it. Going there isn’t going to change it. She’s never coming back.”

The words that rolled off of Galion’s tongue were cruel and they stung in exactly the way they were intended to. The smirk on his boyfriend’s face brought about a sharp pain in Thranduil’s chest. Why did he have to say things like that? It was as though he was jealous of Thranduil’s late wife.

“I know.” The blonde replied, voice freezing over and becoming increasingly cold. “And I’m sorry about last night.” He eventually said. It was a stupid thing to say because he was not sorry, not at all. But he had to at least attempt to eradicate the tension that occupied the room. It was suffocating him.

“I knew you’d apologize eventually. Still doesn’t change the fact that you did it.” Galion said, getting up from the sofa and making his way over to where Thranduil stood under the arched doorway.

“I don’t want to fight, Gal.” Thranduil pouted, trying his best to look innocent and coy to deter his boyfriend’s anger.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have gone out last night.” Galion replied defensively. “And don’t pull that face, Thran. I’m not so easily fooled by you.”

“Fooled by me?”

“Yeah. I can tell when you’re playing dumb. I don’t want you going out like that anymore.”

“Why not?” Thranduil argued.

“Because I don’t like not knowing what you’re doing. You could be fucking anyone.” Galion growled. “Like the whore you are.”

“You know I wouldn’t.” Thranduil defended as his expression turned to one of disgust.

“How do I know?”

“And if I’m such a whore, as you say, then why the fuck are you still with me?” Thranduil said, heat rising in his voice. He hated being talked down to. He didn’t know why his boyfriend was still going on about this; this was yesterday’s fight. He didn’t want to relive it a second time.

“I’m doing you a favour.” Galion chuckled, rolling his eyes. “No one else could ever love someone as pathetic as you.”

“Then why do you?!” Thranduil yelled, flailing his arms in irritation. He hadn’t expected his voice to come out so loud but in the moment he could not control it. He just hoped Legolas wasn’t listening.

Galion had been standing mere inches away from Thranduil and in an instant both his hands grasped the blonde’s delicate wrists with excessive force. Galion snarled in Thranduil’s face and let out a laugh as he watched the blonde struggle to escape the clutches of his strong hands. Galion held on tightly as he forced a rough kiss onto Thranduil’s taut mouth. Thranduil did not kiss back.

“You know the saying ‘money doesn’t buy happiness’? Well, in this case, it does.” Galion grinned, gripping Thranduil’s wrists even tighter. “The sex isn’t bad either.” Galion pressed another forceful kiss to the blonde’s lips and chuckled when Thranduil turned his head to evade anymore unwanted kisses.

Thranduil cringed internally. He felt appalled that he continually let himself be violated by someone that claimed to love him. Sex didn’t translate to love. It wasn’t that simple. Just because they fucked regularly, didn’t mean Thranduil felt _love_.

“You’re horrible.” Thranduil said in repulsion, making an effort to pull away from the unpleasant sensation.

Galion did not let go when Thranduil struggled to get away. “Maybe I need to claim what’s mine.” He smirked maliciously, pulling Thranduil closer.

“What?”

“Anyone could’ve had you last night, and now I need to lay claim to what’s rightfully mine.”

“Not now!” Thranduil scoffed. He had given up on trying to free his arms from his boyfriend’s iron-like grip. There was no point in struggling any longer. It would only make this much more difficult than it needed to be.

“Later. Tonight. I’ll have my way with you and you’ll love it.” Galion laughed, finally letting go of Thranduil’s arms and pushing the blonde backwards so his shoulders collided with the wall.

“Ow.” Thranduil mumbled as Galion let out an inconsiderate laugh and made his way back to the sofa.

Thranduil went to the kitchen to get himself a snack before he retreated up to his bedroom. He was planning on taking a nice long nap to escape his constant feeling of discontentment.

“Ada?” He heard Legolas say as he was passing the boy’s room.

His son opened his bedroom door just enough to peak his head out.

“Yeah?” Thranduil said in response, absentmindedly rubbing at his sore wrists.

“Is everything okay?” Legolas asked with a concerned look on his face, brows knitting together in worry.

Thranduil felt bad that his son always felt the need to check up on him to make sure he was alright. It should really be the other way around.

“Everything is fine, darling. Don’t worry about me.” Thranduil said, hoping Legolas wasn’t listening in on his argument with Galion the entire time, and wondering just how much his son had actually heard.

“Okay then.” Legolas sighed. “I love you, ada.” He said before slipping his head back into his room and closing his door.

“Love you too, Leggy.” Thranduil said, clutching his hand over his heart as he made his way to his own bedroom and closed the door behind him.

At least Galion didn’t follow him upstairs. At least he could have a few moments to breathe. He changed out of his clothes and put on something more suited to lazing around in bed – black yoga pants and a loose tank top. Thranduil slumped down onto the bed, tossing the decorative pillows onto the floor; he threw them with more force than necessary.

Pulling the cozy fleece blanket up over his body, he relaxed into the comfort of the bed and started to read a book about ancient civilizations. The weariness quickly took over and when he realized he had been reading the same sentence over and over he put down the book and closed his eyes, letting sleep take him.

When he woke up it was just past two o’clock. He scolded himself mentally for sleeping so long, but surprisingly Galion didn’t wake him so there was no reason to fret. He kicked the blanket off of himself and made his way downstairs.

Legolas must still be in his room, seeing as the door was still shut. Thranduil hated that his son was always holed up in his room. He was becoming an isolationist just like his father. Thranduil didn’t want Legolas to turn out like him.

Thranduil got downstairs only to realize that Galion must have gone out. The house was quiet and when he looked out the window Galion’s car (the one Thranduil had bought him) was nowhere in sight. Thank god.

Thranduil called out to Legolas to see if he wanted lunch, but the boy refused, saying that he had made something for himself already while Thranduil was asleep. The blonde made a sandwich and ate it quickly in the kitchen before going to plop himself down onto the couch.

The atmosphere in the house was always lighter whenever Galion was not there. It was a rare occurrence but it felt good, so Thranduil savoured it. He turned on the television, so he didn’t have to sit in complete silence before deciding to go down to the wine cellar to grab a bottle for himself.

He poured the red liquid into a wine glass and drank it in small sips as he sat in front of the television. It wasn’t hard to get lost in his thoughts, even with the noise and flashes of light filling the room. It seemed as though Thranduil was always lost in his own mind, constantly fighting an internal battle.

He usually only allowed himself two large glasses of wine when he was at home but he figured another wouldn’t hurt. As he was pouring his third glass he heard his cell phone vibrate on the glass surface of the coffee table. Thranduil never kept the volume turned up; he didn’t want Galion to hear it if someone did happen to text him. He didn’t want to deal with his boyfriend’s crazy suspicions.

When he snatched up the device to see who texted him, he was surprised to see it was an unknown number, and not Galion pestering him.

Thranduil hesitantly opened the message and his heart did a little back flip in his chest.

[from: 2893888250] 3:11pm – Hey, it’s Bard. The guy you drew the picture of on the napkin.

_Oh shit. Bard._

Thranduil quickly saved the number under a fake name – ‘Katie’. He didn’t trust Galion to not go through his phone.

He took a deep breath and another lengthy sip of wine before typing out a reply to Bard’s message.

[to: Katie] 3:18pm – Hey :) I’m glad you texted. How’s it going?

After he sent the text he immediately felt foolish. Thranduil had no idea what to say or what was appropriate so he settled for normal, boring conversation. Was the smiley face too much? Was it wrong to express that he was happy Bard had decided to text him? What was the norm in these sorts of situations?

Before he could work himself up too much, another text came through.

[from: Katie] 3:21pm – Going good, still a bit hungover haha. I’m glad you texted back. ;) How is your day going?

Oh god. Winky face. Thranduil felt like a teenager getting all hyped up about something as simple as a semicolon and a parenthesis. He was smiling like an idiot; he knew he probably looked ridiculous.

“Ada, what’s wrong with your face?” Legolas asked, startling Thranduil into almost spilling his wine all over his pants.

“What do you mean what’s wrong with my face?” Thranduil chuckled, surprisingly in a much better mood than he had been earlier. He felt almost… giddy.

“You’re smiling at your phone!” Legolas said, laughing when Thranduil gave him a mock-offended look.

“I’m just talking to a friend.” Thranduil explained.

“You mean Haldir?” Legolas questioned, taking a seat beside his dad on the sofa, eyeing the phone suspiciously.

“No, not Haldir.”

“But, Haldir is like your only friend.”

“That’s not true.” Thranduil laughed, amused by his son’s perception of his lack of friendships.

“Ada…” Legolas grinned, shooting Thranduil a knowing look.

“Maybe you’re right. But I’m trying to make more friends now.”

“Good. You need more friends.”

“Just don’t--” Thranduil started, only to be cut off by his son.

“Don’t tell Galion. I know. Don’t worry, ada.” Legolas said, making a zipping motion with his fingers over his lips. “I won’t say anything.”

It was sad that Legolas knew that he had to keep Thranduil’s friendships a secret.

“Thank you, my sweet boy.” Thranduil said, kissing the top of his son’s head.

“Now, get back to your smiling.” Legolas giggled, running back out of the room.

[from: Katie] 3:25pm – oh, and I completely forgot to thank you for the drink. So…thank you :)

Thranduil’s cheeks felt hot and flushed, he knew he was most definitely blushing; sitting on the sofa by himself blushing like a fool. How embarrassing.

He hardly even knew how to respond, but his fingers worked quicker than his mind as he typed out a reply to Bard.

[to: Katie] 3:27pm – You’re welcome :) It’s too bad about your hangover though. Drink lots of water and get some rest.

[to: Katie] 3:28pm – Oh, and my day is going pretty good.

After Thranduil had sent the texts, he immediately regretted it, feeling as though he was talking way too much to someone he didn’t even know. But, how else did one go about making friends at the age of twenty-nine? He rationalized that maybe, just maybe, Bard didn’t mind. Maybe Bard wanted a friend too.

[from: Katie] 3:29pm – Thanks for the advice :) Unfortunately too busy to rest, but I will drink lots of water. I’m glad your day is going good.

Thranduil kept re-reading the messages from Bard, analyzing them far too much for someone who claimed that he only wanted a _friend_. He sighed, wanting to keep the conversation going but not knowing what to say next. His whole body was tense and wound up; he felt like he was overheating, and all from a few text messages from his…muse. He guessed that’s what Bard was. He did have more drawings of the man than he would care to admit.

Thankfully for the blonde, another text message came through causing the phone to vibrate in his hand. Thranduil downed the last of his wine and set the glass on the coffee table.

[from: Katie] 3:40pm – I know this might be weird since we don’t even know each other, but I’m hoping since you gave me your number it might not be as weird as I’m thinking it is. Anyway, would you like to do something sometime?

A lump formed in Thranduil’s throat causing him to freeze on the spot. He couldn’t stop staring at the message. Despite Bard’s words, Thranduil could not believe the man actually wanted to spend time with him. His heart was fluttering in his chest. It was a foreign feeling. He hadn’t felt this way in years. The prospect of making a new friend both fascinated and frightened him at the same time.

He let out a little squealing sound before typing out his response.

Yes, of course he would like to do something.

[to: Katie] 3:45pm – Sure, that would be great. Anything in mind?

He could barely contain his excitement.

Maybe he hadn’t been too forward after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think :D


	3. Velleitie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard's wife is not very pleased with his behaviour.  
> He must have a little talk with the children.  
> Texting with Thranduil continues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...a month later and here it is.  
> I kind of hate how these beginning chapters have to have so much marital crap but I guess it's necessary for the story. This chapter may be a bit slow but the next one will be more eventful. I swear!
> 
> (Oh and btw, all these chapter titles are from other-wordly.tumblr.com)

velleitie (n.) a wish or powerful desire for something that nonetheless is not or cannot be followed by actions meant to pursue it

* * *

 Bard had done it.

The painting in Tilda’s room was finally complete. Bard smiled to himself in contentment, knowing this was one less thing to be nagged about.

To be honest, Bard was rather impressed with himself for getting Tilda’s room painted so quickly. He worked in a blur, moving around without conscious thought. He ended up finishing late in the afternoon without once being bothered by anyone. It had helped that he locked himself in the room, not even bothering to go downstairs for lunch.

When he finally had everything cleaned up, all the paint brushes and rollers washed and put away in the basement, he made his way to the kitchen to find something to eat. He was starving.

Madison sat in the living room watching some documentary on television, her eyes glued to the screen. She didn’t look up at Bard when he walked by, instead only grumbling in response to his presence. He didn’t say anything to her, didn’t bother to let her know that he had finally finished the painting. No, he just kept quiet and made himself a turkey sandwich, trying to be as silent as possible in the process.

Tilda was at her grandmother’s house, Bain was still out with friends and Sigrid was in her room, hopefully doing her homework.

Thankfully, Madison still hadn’t said anything about the fact that Bard only arrived home early in the morning. He spent the night sleeping in his car in the parking lot of the pub. If his wife didn’t want him home, then he would be more than happy to oblige. The incident was still on his mind; it was only a matter of time before Madison brought it up. Normally, Bard would feel guilty for doing what he did, but not this time. He had been pushed too far, for too long.

He finished making his sandwich and ate it quickly at the counter, not bothering to sit down at the table. He was tempted to leave his plate out instead of putting it in the dishwasher just to annoy his wife, but decided against that. He was already in enough trouble to begin with; no point adding to the list.

Bard was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. He had slept in them and not bothered changing when he arrived home that morning. He figured a shower might boost his spirits and a fresh change of clothes wouldn’t hurt. As he made his way out of the kitchen and through the living room his wife shot him a death glare from where she was sitting on the couch. Bard only made eye contact for a fraction of a second before averting his eyes to the ground. He quickly skipped up the stairs, making his way for the bathroom when he heard Madison’s voice.

“Bard…”

He stifled a groan as he was pulling off his shirt. He didn’t want to have to talk to her. He just wanted to shower. Looks like he couldn’t get what he wanted.

“Bard!” Madison called out again, now from the foot of the stairs.

“What?!” He yelled back, rolling his eyes.

“Are you seriously just going to ignore me?” Madison asked. He could hear her footsteps on the stairs. She was coming up to confront him. Just great.

“I don’t want to argue right now. I’m tired and I just need a shower, so please, just drop it.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I know well enough what you were going to say.” Bard said in annoyance.

“Fine then, take your shower. But we need to talk when you’re done.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bard waved her off, closing the bathroom door once she was out of sight. All he wanted was a moment’s peace. It seemed he would be bombarded with whatever she wanted to talk to him about once he was out of the shower.

Knowing that there was no escaping his wife, Bard let himself linger under the hot water of the shower longer than he needed to. The water helped relax his sore muscles and revive his mind. His hangover was gone, and he was happy about that. But honestly, he would much rather deal with a throbbing headache than his wife’s cruel words. Bard knew she wanted to talk about last night, about why he went out and drank until past midnight, about why he didn’t even bother coming home. He didn’t let himself feel bad about that; after all Madison had told him not to come home, so really he was only doing as she said. And now, he was going to be reprimanded for it.

When Bard got out of the shower, he took his time getting dressed and drying off his hair, putting it up in a loose bun so it was out of his face. His mind kept trailing back to that long silken blonde hair. Oh, how he wanted to run his fingers through its smoothness.

Bard had been texting Thranduil throughout the day, amazed at his boldness for actually texting the man at all. He had been hesitant about contacting him, but figured it wouldn’t hurt. There was nothing to lose. Bard couldn’t deny his immediate attraction to the blonde man. It was a bit unnerving considering the fact that he was married.

Truthfully, Bard knew he needed a friend, someone other than Percy to be able to talk to. Someone he could do things with and share memories with.

Thranduil had seemed happy to talk to him, which made Bard’s heart beat irregular in his chest. The allure of the blonde’s words kept the replies coming from Bard, despite the fact that he had no idea what to say, let alone if what he was saying was even appropriate. A few hours ago he had texted Thranduil saying that maybe they should do something together. He couldn’t tell if what they were doing was flirting since it had been so long since Bard had needed to flirt at all. It felt like flirting but he couldn’t really be sure.

It came as a bit of a shock when Thranduil told him that he would like to do something and asked him what he had in mind. Bard hadn’t replied. He didn’t know what they could do together. Was coffee an appropriate suggestion, or did it seem too forward? Dinner, or was dinner too formal? A movie perhaps? He quickly crossed off the idea of a movie, since that would leave them in a dark room, unable to even talk to each other. He wanted to talk to Thranduil, to get to know him and a movie wouldn’t be the right setting for that.

Bard let his mind wander to all the possibilities for his first…hangout with Thranduil. He didn’t want to call it a date. That would be presumptuous. He was married. He couldn’t go out on a date. The notion was ridiculous, but it arose in his mind nonetheless.

As he was sauntering around in his room, he pulled the napkin Thranduil had given him out of the pocket of his pants before putting his dirty clothes into the hamper. He admired the sketch of himself and absently wondered what he should do with it. He would never throw it out, but he didn’t want to leave it sitting around for his wife to eventually find. That might get him into more trouble than he was able to talk himself out of. He decided the only place Madison didn’t go snooping was out in his work area in the garage. He could put the napkin in one of his toolboxes knowing that it would never be found.

Bard quickly crept down the stairs and made his way to the front door. He went out to the garage, managing to easily bypass Madison, who by the sounds of it was doing the laundry in the basement.

He unlocked his toolbox and put the little napkin inside underneath the assortment of wrenches in the bottom compartment. Only he would know that it’s there. No one else would ever find out. Bard’s eyes shifted around nervously as he closed and locked up his toolbox. He sighed heavily, clenching his fists. Was he doing something wrong? Why did he feel like some sort of criminal? Why did he care so much about keeping this treasure from the blonde man? He couldn’t figure out his own motives so he pushed the questions to the back of his mind before reluctantly making his way back inside the house.

Bard knew he was going to have to talk with Madison soon. She had something to say to him and he couldn’t hide for the rest of the day. He would just have to suck it up and face her. As footsteps sounded on the stairs, Bard took a deep breath. He knew what was coming, and despite telling himself to just stand his ground, he quickly headed to the kitchen to try and escape the inevitable.

“You can’t avoid me forever, Bard.” He heard Madison’s voice approach behind him.

_But I can sure as hell try_ , he thought to himself.

“I’m not avoiding you.” He said instead, gritting his teeth as he lied.

“Then what are you doing?” Madison asked. She had stepped into her condescending tone and did so like a pro. She had years to perfect her tones with Bard. Her arms were crossed tightly and she stood with one foot pointed outward, toes tapping every now and then.

“I’m looking for something to eat.” Bard commented with an air of indifference.

“We need to talk about last night.”

“What about it?”

“What you did was not right. It wasn’t fair to the children.”

“They’ve got nothing to do with any of this. Don’t bring them into it. Sigrid and Bain were both out anyway, and you didn’t want me to go to the movies with you and Tilda. So, tell me, what was I supposed to do?”

“You were not supposed to go and get drunk like some irresponsible teenager. You have a family, Bard.”

“I’m aware.”

“So why do you do these things?” Madison asked, foot tapping in annoyance.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d like to think I still have free will to do the things I want sometimes.”

“Not if it means treating your family like shit in the process.”

“You think I would purposely do anything to hurt the children? Really?” Bard sighed. He couldn’t believe the words that came out of his wife’s mouth sometimes.

“I’m not sure I even know you anymore, so who knows what you’d do.”

“I wanted to piss you off, that’s all.”

“Typical.” Madison said, almost spitting the word in his face.

“Yes, and it’s typical of you to treat me like I’m nothing.”

“That’s a lie. I’ve put up with you for a long time, Bard.”

“Yes, exactly. You put up with me. You’ve had to deal with me. You don’t want to, but you do.”

“For the sake of the children, yes.”

“Why? You like to torture yourself?” Bard growled. He was aware that he was raising his voice so he drew in a sharp breath.

Bard began pacing around the kitchen, looking through the cupboards, making any small movement to help calm himself down. He didn’t want to let his frustration take over. That wouldn’t do anyone any good if he started yelling. Madison stared at him with a look of pure disgust. Her forehead was creased, and her foot tapped quickly now before she groaned and shook her head.

“Then what do you suggest?” She asked, her eyes squinting. She leaned back on the counter, running a hand through her hair.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to get a divorce is what I’m asking…”

That took Bard by surprise. He didn’t expect her to say that. He abruptly stopped pacing, slamming the cupboard door shut as he turned to face his wife. “What?”

“We aren’t in love anymore, Bard. It’s obvious. So what would you like to do?”

“Oh, you’re asking me for my opinion! What a shock!” Bard let the words roll from his tongue, not paying much mind to what he was saying. He always became a little impertinent whenever he was angry.

Madison let out an exasperated sigh before sucking in a large breath of air. “I can’t take this anymore.”

“And what about me? You think I can take it? The way you always talk down to me? Treating me like I’m a child that needs to be taught a lesson. Like no matter what I do it’s just never good enough for you.”

“Oh, just stop feeling sorry for yourself!” Madison yelled, taking a step closer to Bard, who had now stopped pacing and stood stock-still with his fists clenched at his sides.

“You think that’s what this is? Me feeling sorry for myself? No, Madison, it’s me telling you how I feel and yet again you just dismiss it.”

“Because it’s ridiculous! And maybe I feel like you don’t give a shit about me anymore either!”

“Then what the fuck are we doing?” Bard griped, throwing his hands up in defeat. He did not want to be having this conversation. But he knew it had been looming on the horizon for quite some time now and there was little to do to escape the cold truth.

“I don’t fucking know!” Madison yelled, mirroring Bard’s stance. She folded her arms across her chest and stood frozen as a statue in front of Bard looking him up and down before turning on her heel to walk away. “I think I’m going to go stay at my sister’s for a while. See how you do alone with the kids.”

“And what do you propose we tell them?” Bard called out, following her out of the kitchen.

“The truth!” She spat, turning quickly so that Bard almost ran into her.

“So you’re gonna leave it to me to tell them while you’re off at your sister’s house?!”

“Take some responsibility for once.”

“Fine. Just go. Do what you need to do.” Bard said, biting his tongue in an attempt to hold back his frustration.

Madison stormed off and the heavy footfalls on the stairs told Bard she was headed up to their room and that it would be best for him to just keep his distance. Bard was unsure of what she was truly planning on doing. By the way she spoke, it seemed pretty obvious that she wanted to get away, but at the same time she had never before done anything as drastic as actually leaving. Bard stood speechless, finally able to catch a breath and swallow the lump in his throat.

Bard eventually went out in the garage – his safe haven – and tinkered away under the hood of the car. He had an easier time distracting himself than he thought he would, although his mind kept busy wondering about what he would say to the children about why their mother was leaving. He didn’t like that it would be him, all alone, talking to them about this topic. It was something that he and Madison should do together, and when they had actually decided what the verdict was. Were they going to end up separated and then ultimately divorced, or would they be able to stick it out? Bard was never one to believe that it was better to stay in an unhappy marriage for the sake of the children. That would only end up hurting them more, being in a toxic environment. Having two households was a better option if both parents weren’t miserable. He mulled over this for some time before he heard the front door open.

Sliding the garage door open, Bard poked his head out to see if it was Madison. He was right. She stood before him with a suitcase and a smaller duffle bag in hand.

“I’m going to go now.”

“Right now? I thought you’d wait a few days at least…”

“I can’t, Bard. I need space. I need time to think.”

“Okay, then…”

“You’ll have to go pick Tilda up from my mother’s house in an hour. I already called and she said she would be ready by then.”

“Okay.”

“And Bain is due home shortly; Sigrid is still working on an essay in her room. The laundry needs to be taken out of the dryer…”

“Okay, I got it.” Bard snapped. “If you’re going to leave, then go.”

“Alright. I’m going, then.” She said, blinking slowly and making for her car.

“When will you be back?” Bard called out as Madison put her luggage into the trunk.

“I don’t know yet. Just take this time to think things over.”

“Yeah.”

With that Madison got into her car and drove off. Bard didn’t know when she would come back, or if she even wanted to come back. He let out a sigh of relief when she turned off of their street and onto the main road. Relief? Guilt stabbed him in the chest briefly. He shouldn’t be feeling relieved that his wife was gone. He should feel bad, he should want to stop her and tell her to come back so they could work things out. But he felt none of that.

There was a calm in the air that he had not felt for months, no, years.

Bard went back into the house. He looked into the mirror in the foyer only to notice that his brow was furrowed and his face was painted with a scowl. How could she just leave without even saying anything to their children? If it was him who was leaving he would not, under any circumstances, be able to go without talking to all the children first. They needed reassurance; they needed to know they were loved. What Madison was doing was only going to make them feel abandoned.

Bard knocked on Sigrid’s door, letting her know that he was going to pick up Tilda. All he got in response was a quiet ‘uh-huh’ and he took that as a good sign; Sigrid must be absorbed in her essay. He quickly made his way down the stairs and out into the car. During the drive Bard had time to piece together what he was going to tell the children about their mothers’ unexpected absence. It would not be a comfortable conversation for him, but it had to be done.

Just how was he going to handle taking care of the children on his own? He would need to wake up extra early to get them breakfast and pack lunches, make sure to do the laundry before the hamper overflowed, make sure all their homework was completed on time, make dinner for everyone when he got home from work. He wouldn’t be able to work overtime if he was now responsible for putting dinner on the table – which meant less household income. He would figure it out, like he always did.

The drive went by fast. Bard pulled into the driveway and before he even had a chance to get half way to the house Tilda was already bounding out of the front door. Madison’s mother stood in the doorway waving to Tilda, her eyes squinting as she saw Bard there instead of her daughter. Bard was aware that the woman didn’t much care for him, although he was unsure why. He figured it had something to do with the fact that Madison was very close with her mother and always ended up on the phone with her after one of their infamous fights. The woman probably knew more about Bard than she had any right to, and probably not all truths. Who knows what kinds of things Madison had spewed about him when she was in a state of anger.

“Da!” Tilda called out as she approached the car. She crawled into the backseat, tossing her stuffed bear in ahead of her.

“Hey, pumpkin.” Bard replied in greeting, getting back into the driver’s seat.

“I thought mommy was coming to pick me up.” Tilda mused aloud.

“No, it’s me.” Bard said. He didn’t want to bring up Madison’s absence now. That would have to wait until all the children were together. He didn’t want to have to tell each of them separately when he could just get it over with in one shot.

Tilda only hummed in reply and Bard turned his head to make sure Tilda had buckled herself in properly.

“Got your seatbelt on, Til?”

“Yup!”

When they arrived back home, Bard helped Tilda out of the car and carried her up the step and into the house, setting her down once he had pushed the door closed behind him. Tilda scrunched up her little face as her eyes flitted around frantically.

Tilda asked where Madison was but all Bard said in response was ‘out’. He had to wait.

A quiet sigh escaped Bard’s lips; he would have to tell them soon – once Bain arrived home from his friend’s house. It was getting late, nearing eight o’clock. This conversation could not wait until tomorrow. The children all had school in the morning.

Bard immediately offered to make Tilda something to eat once he had removed his shoes and hung up his coat, but thankfully she had already eaten at her grandmother’s house and did not need anything else tonight. He hoped that Bain had eaten as well so that would be one less thing to worry about. He went down to the basement to take the clothing out of the dryer. He put it all into the hamper to bring back upstairs so he could sort and fold it. He ignored all of Madison’s clothes, leaving them in the basket untouched.

When the laundry was folded, Bard took it upstairs and left the basket sitting in the hallway. He knocked on Sigrid’s bedroom door to let her know her clothes were clean and folded and that she could put them away.

After three knocks he finally got a reply. She must have her headphones in; Bard knew that she always used music to help her concentrate.

“Yeah?” Sigrid said. Bard heard her shuffling around in her room before the door opened.

“Did you want anything to eat?” Bard asked, trying his best not to say anything about the state of her room. It was a mess.

“Nah, I’m good. Had some leftovers earlier.”

“Okay. Did you finish your essay?”

“Yup. It’s pretty much done. Just needs editing.”

“Good girl. I’ve got clean clothes for you here.” He pointed to the basket in the hall. “Maybe clean up this mess while you’re at it?” Bard asked, raising an eyebrow and gesturing one arm to the clothes and paper that were scattered about on her bed and floor.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I will.” She replied, coming out of her room to gather her clothes from the laundry basket. “Where did Ma go?”

Bard swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“I’ve gotta talk to you guys about that…”

“What do you mean?” She questioned, confusion painted on her face as she peered up at him with inquiring eyes.

“Just finish your essay and tidy your room, then once Bain gets here I’ll explain.”

“Where did she go, Da?” Sigrid pressed, folding her arms in front of her chest after she had deposited her clothes upon her bed.

“She went to your aunt Melanie’s for a while.” Bard confessed. He knew he wasn’t a very good liar, and he knew Sigrid would keep asking if he didn’t tell her straight away.

Sigrid didn’t say anything for a few seconds, pausing to take a breath. “Because of the fighting, right?” She finally asked. Her expression had grown softer and Bard gave her a small half-hearted smile.

“Yeah, honey.”

“Okay.” Sigrid said.

“Just okay? You’re not going to question me further?” Bard asked, genuinely surprised that Sigrid wasn’t pushing further.

“No. Maybe it’s better if she isn’t here for a while.”

“Sig…”

“Da, I love her and all, but she treats you like shit. I’m not blind. Bain and I can see it. Tilda is too young to understand but Bain and I…we get it.”

“I’m sorry, darling.” Bard sighed

“Don’t be sorry, Da. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Sigrid responded, helping to put Bard’s mind at ease.

“Thanks, Sig.” Bard said, wrapping his arms around his daughter and pulling her close for a tight hug. “You know you’re the best?”

“I know, I am, aren’t I?” Sigrid teased. “Now let me get back to my essay.”

“Alright, and clean up this mess too!” Bard reminded, patting her on the shoulder as she went back into her room. “Oh, and I’ll let you know when Bain gets home so you can come down and we can have a talk.”

“Okay. Love you.” Sigrid said, closing her door gently behind her.

“Love you too, honey.”

Bard went into his bedroom to put away all the clean clothes. He ended up folding Madison’s things. He didn’t feel right just leaving them there. He put everything away swiftly before heading to the bathroom to shave. Just as he was finishing up, the sound of the front door caught his attention. Bain was home.

Instead of going straight down stairs, Bard lingered in his bedroom for a few minutes, savoring the quiet and solitude. He sat down on the bed, leaning back into the headboard, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

He needed to reply to Thranduil’s text message. He had been putting it off. His thumbs grazed over the touch screen typing out his reply.

[to: 2893444190] 8:09 pm - Sorry for the late reply, quite busy today. What would you like to do? I’d like to know your thoughts. :)

After sending the message, he realized he hadn’t added Thranduil to his contact list yet. He saved the number as ‘T’, not wanting to actually put his full name. He always worried Madison would go through his phone. Even if she was not here now didn’t mean she wouldn’t be back eventually. And she did have a habit of checking his phone every now and then. He read over his message again, keeping his eyes on the screen for a moment before putting the device back into his pocket.

He straightened out his shirt and went down stairs. Tilda was sitting on the couch watching TV and from the sounds of it Bain was in the kitchen rummaging through the cupboards.

Tilda looked over to her father and smiled.

“You have any homework, sweetie?”

“Nope! I had one assignment and I finished it yesterday.”

Before Bard could even reply, Bain popped his head around the corner with a frown on his face.

“Where did those cool ranch Doritos go?!” He asked. “I can’t find them anywhere!”

“They’re here on the coffee table.” Bard said, grabbing the bag to bring over to his son. “Did you have dinner?”

“Yeah, but it was disgusting. I hate other people’s cooking. Nasty green pasta.” Bain said, nose scrunching up as he made a face.

Bard laughed. He held onto the chips, but Bain tried grabbing for them. “You don’t need these. Have an apple or something.”

“C’mon, Da! I’m starving!” Bain groaned loudly.

“You’re always starving.”

“I’m growing. I need to eat.”

“Well, have something better than this junk.” Bard bypassed his son and put the Doritos into the cupboard and pulled out the rice cakes. “Have these, they aren’t as bad.” He held out the bag for Bain.

Bain sighed and gave in, grabbing the rice cakes and opening up the bag. “Fine.”

“Did you have a good time with…” Bard trailed off, trying to remember the name of Bain’s friend.

“Lucas.” Bain supplied.

“Yes, Lucas.”

“Yeah, it was good. His house is ridiculous though. His parents are hoarders, I swear. Actually makes me happy that mom’s a neat freak.”

Bard chuckled but a lump quickly formed in his throat at the mention of Madison. All the children were home, it was time to tell them.

“Where is mom anyway?” Bain asked, almost as if reading Bard’s mind. “Her car isn’t in the driveway.”

“She’s not here right now.” Bard answered curtly. He went to the foot of the stairs and called out to Sigrid and within a few seconds she came down the stairs.

“Okay, I’m here.” Sigrid announced.

“What’s going on?” Bain asked, chewing the rice cakes with his mouth open.

“Bain, ew. Close your mouth. That’s gross.” Sigrid said, shooting her brother a look.

Bain opened his mouth wider and stuck out his tongue at his sister. Sigrid rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Guys, please!” Bard said. He didn’t need their drama right now. “Come, sit on the couch.”

“What’s going on?” Bain asked again as he sat on the arm of the couch, putting his feet up beside Tilda, who swatted at him.

“Yeah, Da, what’s going on?” Tilda questioned.

Bard took a deep breath once he had settled onto the couch between Sigrid and Tilda.

“Well, how do I say this?” Bard mused.

“Say what?” Bain cut in.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this, but your mother left for a little while…” Bard spoke the words with an uneasy tone, worrying that no matter how he said it, it still wouldn’t sound right.

“What? Why?”

“Where did mommy go?!” Tilda squealed, pushing Bain’s legs off the couch.

Both Bain and Tilda were staring at Bard with wide eyes. Sigrid was calm and sat quietly without saying a word. Bard honestly had no idea how to proceed. How did he tell them that their mother couldn’t stand him so she left? Would that make the children resent him because he was the cause of her departure?

Bard groaned quietly, running a hand over his face before he spoke again.

“She went to your Aunt Melanie’s house.”

“Why? What happened, Da?” Bain asked, his brow now furrowed and his face twisted into a look of confusion.

“Da…” Tilda said, voice shaky as if she were about to cry.

“It’s okay, Tilda.” Sigrid said, beckoning the little girl into her arms. Tilda crawled over Bard and sat on Sigrid’s lap as Bain slid off the arm of the couch and into the now vacant spot beside Bard.

“You guys know that your mother and I have not been getting along lately. We have been arguing a lot and it isn’t healthy for any of us, so she decided she needed some space so she went to stay with your Aunt Melanie for a bit.” Bard explained.

“Is she coming back?” Bain inquired.

“Eventually, yes. She just needs time to be by herself, okay?”

“Okay, Da.”

“When is she coming back?” Tilda chimed, nestling herself into Sigrid’s arms.

“I’m not sure, darling.” Bard answered. He had no idea when she was going to come back; whether it would be a few days or a few weeks.

“Can we call her?” Bain asked, picking apart a rice cake and tossing bits of it onto the coffee table. Bard ignored that for now.

“Of course you can call her.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be around us anymore either.” Bain grumbled, flicking another piece of rice cake half way across the room.

“Bain! Stop doing that.” Sigrid shouted, all of a sudden raising her voice and becoming a part of the conversation. “Ma loves us, okay? She’s not abandoning us! So stop worrying.”

“Sig…” Bard began only to be cut off before he even got the chance to say anything.

“No, Da. It’s alright. I have lots of friends whose parents are divorced and their parents still love them. Sometimes things are better that way. Less tension, less fighting. Everyone can be happy.”

“You and mom are getting divorced?!” Bain asked in an exasperated tone.

“No, no. I don’t know.” Bard said. Suddenly he was feeling very overwhelmed. He was glad Sigrid was trying to help but now Bain and Tilda were worrying about a possible divorce.

“Will mommy still want to be our mommy?” Tilda sniffed, wrapping her little arms around herself tightly.

“Of course, darling. She loves you. Just as I love you.” Bard reassured.

“Yeah, Til, just because ma and da aren’t in love anymore, doesn’t mean they don’t love us. People fall out of love. It’s just life.” Sigrid said, rocking Tilda back and forth in her lap.

Bain seemed to have already disconnected. He got up to pick up the pieces of rice cake that he had chucked in all directions. After he had collected all the pieces, he made his way to the kitchen.

“Where are you going, Bain?” Bard called after him.

“I’m throwing this out and then I’m gonna play a video game.”

“You’re okay?” Bard questioned.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I understand. I’d rather you and mom not be together if it means at least you’ll both be happy instead of being together and being miserable.” Bain said, and with that he took off up the stairs to his bedroom before Bard had a chance to say anything back to him.

“You think he’s okay?” Bard turned to ask Sigrid.

“He’ll be fine, Da. I can always talk to him.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“And are you okay little peanut?” Bard asked Tilda who quickly crawled over onto his lap. She snuggled her face into his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’m okay. As long as you and mommy still love me…”

“Always and forever.” Bard replied, pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

Bard was glad that he told the children, but he knew the conversation was not truly over. They would bring up the subject again and he worried about how he had handled the whole thing. He didn’t know if he had said enough to ease the children’s minds, or if he had only made it worse by telling them too much. Thankfully, Sigrid was on his side and was able to talk to either Bain or Tilda if they needed someone to speak to other than Bard.

~~~~~

By the time Bard went up to bed, it was almost eleven. He made lunches for the kids, put away the laundry, made sure they had all finished their homework and that it was already in their bags, and finally had a quick bite to eat. He went into Tilda’s room and silently gave her a goodnight kiss. He told Bain not to stay up too late. And luckily, the light in Sigrid’s room went out just as he was making his way to his own room.

He took his phone out of his pants pocket to put on charge on the night stand before he shed himself of his clothes. As he slid into bed, he let the cool sensation of the sheets soothe his weary mind. He got comfortable, propping two pillows under his head and reached for his phone so he could check his messages. Madison sent him a reminder to make sure the children had their homework finished, which did his best not to reply to with a snarky comment. He didn’t need her to tell him what to do, he already knew.

He was glad that wasn’t the only message he had received. Thranduil had replied to him as well. A small smile crept onto his face as he opened the up the message to see what the blonde man had said to him. He needed a distraction from real life right now.

[from: T] 9:14pm - My thoughts? Hmm. Well my first thought is that you are quite the looker, and my second thought may not be so pure… Now, tell me your thoughts

That caught Bard’s attention. He sat up a little more rigid in the bed, his body tensing in response to Thranduil’s words. Was he flirting? Is that what this was? Bard barely knew how to reply to a message like that. He hadn’t flirted in ages; he wasn’t sure if he even knew how. His thoughts? What were his thoughts? That Thranduil was the most attractive person he had ever had the privilege to lay eyes upon? That he wanted to feel those long legs wrapped around his waist? That maybe they should meet up soon? The latter seemed like the best (and least embarrassing) option.

[to: T] 11:09pm - My thoughts are that you are too beautiful for words and that we should go out sometime. ;)

Bard hit send before even reading over the message. If he read over the message he knew it was likely that he would find something wrong with it and second guess himself. He didn’t want to censor his feelings, so he just sent the text as is. And he had to admit, it was nice to be able to escape his problems and flirt with Thranduil as if he had no attachments at all.

[from: T] 11:10pm - You flatter me. Tell me where you’d like to go…

[to: T] 11:10pm - It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.

[to: T] 11:10pm - And we can go wherever you’d like.

[from: T] 11:11pm - 11:11 make a wish ;) Let’s get coffee or lunch or something of the sort. I’d like to know you.

[to: T] 11:11pm - My wish may not be appropriate to disclose ;) I’d like to know you too. Coffee or lunch would be good. Are you free this week?

[from: T] 11:12pm - Keep your wish a secret and maybe it will come true. I’m free on Friday, all day. What about you?

[to: T] 11:12pm - I hope it comes true. My lips are sealed. Friday would be fine. I’ll be at work until 5, so lunch can’t happen, but maybe we could grab a coffee or something later on…

[from: T] 11:13pm - That sounds good.

[to: T] 11:13pm - Great! Any place in particular you’d like to go?

[from:T] 11:14pm - Hmm. I’m not picky. Wherever you’d like.

[to: T] 11:15pm - Okay. I know a nice quiet coffee shop we could go to.

[from: T] 11:15pm - Okay. What should I wear?

[to: T] 11:16pm - You can wear anything at all

[from: T] 11:16pm - And then afterwards maybe nothing at all ;)

Bard let out an audible sigh. What was this man doing to him? He did his best to stop himself from picturing Thranduil completely naked. It was a wasted effort. The image was much too vivid to drown out.

[to: T] 11:17pm - You’re a bastard, you know that?

[from: T] 11:17pm - I know. What’re you up to?

[to: T] 11:18pm - Just in bed. How about you?

[from: T] 11:18pm - Working on a painting. May be a bit distracted now that you’ve told me you’re in bed

[to: T] 11:19pm - Be good, you! So you are an artist then. I thought so.

[from: T] 11:20pm - You make it hard for me to be good. And yes, I’m an artist.

[to: T] 11:21pm - What’re you painting?

[from: T] 11:22pm - Just a landscape, nothing exciting. Got an abstract on the go too. The landscape is a commission, so I’ve got a deadline.

[to: T] 11:22pm - I bet they look amazing. When’s your deadline?

[from: T] 11:23pm - Gotta have it done by Thursday. Maybe one day I’ll show you and then you can tell me what you think.

[to: T] 11:23pm - Well if it’s as good as that drawing you did of me then I’m sure it’s wonderful

[from: T] 11:24pm - You make me blush. Would you let me draw you again?

[to: T] 11:24pm - Yes, for sure. Whenever you’d like

[from: T] 11:25pm - I would need you to model for me...

[to: T] 11:26pm - Name the time and place and I’ll be there

[from: T] 11:27pm - Tomorrow night, my bed ;)

[to: T] 11:27pm - Omg you are cheeky

[from: T] 11:28pm - Is that a bad thing?

[to: T] 11:28pm - No. It’s a good thing. I like it.

[from: T] 11:29pm - Good. I’m glad. As much as I’m enjoying teasing you right now, I really must continue painting :(

[to: T] 11:30pm - You can tease me some more tomorrow. I’ve gotta get to bed anyway. It was nice talking to you.

[from: T] 11:31pm - I’ll take you up on that ;) Nice talking to you too. Sleep well x

[to: T] 11:31pm - I look forward to it. Have a good sleep when you get there. Night :)

[from: T] 11:32pm - Nighty night :)

Bard hadn’t realized how stiff his shoulders had become until he finally set his phone back onto the night stand. He shook his body to rid himself of the tension, but it did little to ease his mind. Thranduil had purposely been teasing him, and it had affected him in ways he didn’t think possible anymore.

He settled into bed and shut off the lamp, trying desperately to get comfortable. The image of long silvery blonde hair and pale blue eyes danced in his mind every time he closed his eyes, making it impossible for sleep to come.

The last time he looked at the clock it read 12:56 a.m. but eventually his tiredness took over and he drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Thranduil is a bit of a cheeky flirt, but maybe that's just how he is when he's texting. Maybe he doesnt really act that way face to face. We shall see....
> 
> What would you like to see in the next chapter from Thran's POV? I'm always open to ideas/suggestions. 
> 
> Comments, kudos, speculations are the best. Thanks for reading :)


	4. marmoreal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Thran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So let me warn you now...this chapter is a wee bit violent (nothing too intense though). It may be considered dub-con. So yes. You've been warned!
> 
> And a big thank you to EldritchMage who has been giving me so many wonderful ideas and inspiration for this fic! <3
> 
> This is only the beginning for Thranduil, so watch out! 
> 
> (Do ignore any spelling/grammar blunders. I'll read over this again)

marmoreal (adj.) cold and aloof; reminiscent of a marble statue

* * *

 

Thranduil looked at his phone. Then in a split second he made a decision. He swiped his finger across the touch screen and deleted the conversation with Bard, or rather ‘Katie’. He didn’t want any incriminating evidence on his phone for whenever Galion returned home. Thranduil hoped that Galion wouldn’t even end up coming home tonight. It was nearing midnight now and Thranduil hadn’t done anything more on his painting since he had starting texting Bard. He couldn’t focus and he had had too much wine to be able work on the finer details of the landscape.

He stood up and pocketed his phone before washing his paint brushes and setting them out to dry. He turned off the light in the basement and made his way upstairs.

Legolas had gone to bed a few hours ago and Thranduil had made sure to get his lunch ready for tomorrow morning. Thranduil went into the kitchen and found Legolas’s finished homework on the table so he put it in his son’s backpack and left the bag by the front door.

He cleaned up any dishes that had been left in the sink, dried them with precision and put them away. He made sure the counters were wiped down and the table top was spotless. He sprayed the eco-friendly cleaning products onto the surfaces and scrubbed at them until everything was to his liking. He washed the inside of the stove and wiped the fridge door clean. When he finished doing so, he grabbed an already opened bottle of wine from inside the fridge and sat down on a stool at the island counter. He popped the cork out of the bottle with practiced ease and took a swig straight from the bottle.

It was past one a.m. now and he still couldn’t seem to settle down. His mind was swirling and replaying his ridiculous text conversation with Bard. Why did he say the things he said? What on earth possessed him to act like such a damn whore? Maybe he was just bored, maybe he wanted the attention, maybe he was lonely. Or perhaps it was all three of those things in varying degrees. He sighed as he recalled his own words and shook his head at his stupidity. This was not like him at all. He would have to rectify the situation by telling Bard that he was just joking, or that he was intoxicated when they had talked and he didn’t know what he was saying. Even though he knew exactly what he was saying; but only now, when he finally had time to reflect on his words, did it make him cringe. Why wasn’t he able to censor his texts before he sent them?

The excitement he felt when he texted Bard certainly played a part in what he said, and so he flirted like a hormonal teenager who had no control over themselves. Thranduil took another sip of the wine, letting the liquid swirl around in his mouth before he swallowed it. He didn’t want to worry anymore about what he said to Bard. The dark-haired man seemed to like it – he was playing along after all. So Thranduil chalked it up to just that – playing. They were just having fun. It was nothing serious. He honestly did not expect to actually see Bard face to face; he didn’t expect this meeting at the coffee shop to actually work out. He figured he would just make up some lie and tell Bard he couldn’t make it and that they could reschedule. Then he could just ignore Bard altogether. He didn’t even know the man, all he knew was the fantasy that he created in his mind – which was probably a whole lot better than the person Bard truly was. No one was ever who they appeared to be. Yet, something still drew Thranduil to Bard; there was a certain allure he could not describe.

Thranduil pushed all these thoughts to the back of his mind. He shouldn’t even be entertaining such ideas.

After the wine bottle was empty, Thranduil shut off all the lights and went up to his ensuite bathroom to get ready for bed. It was late and he didn’t know why Galion had not come home yet. Despite his ill feelings towards his boyfriend, Thranduil tended to worry about him a lot. Galion was reckless and sometimes managed to get himself into trouble which Thranduil had to bail him out of.

Thranduil brushed his teeth for exactly one minute and forty-four seconds and then washed his face with warm water before applying a light moisturizer. He brushed his hair and plaited it into a loose braid down his back. He shed himself of all his clothes, getting into bed with nothing on. He had never enjoyed pajamas or any sort of restricting clothing when he was sleeping; it all seemed to bunch up and annoy him during the night, so he never bothered wearing anything.

Once he was settled into bed his mobile began ringing on the night stand where he had it plugged in.

“For fuck’s sake.” He grumbled, reaching over to grab the device. It was Galion calling him. He did not want to answer, he just wanted to go to sleep and not have to worry about whatever it was his boyfriend needed.

“Yeah?” Thranduil answered.

“Thran,” Galion began. “I need you to come pick me up.” He sounded like he was drunk. His speech was slightly slurred and he spoke at a sluggish pace.

“What? Where are you?” Thranduil asked, quickly becoming annoyed that he would have to leave the comfort of his bed. Why did he put up with this?

“At Feren’s. Come get me.” Galion ordered.

Thranduil sighed and took a breath. It was quiet on Galion’s end; it didn’t sound like he was at a party. He was most likely outside. Thranduil hated having to do things he didn’t want to, hated having to disrupt his own schedule for Galion’s wants and needs.

“Can’t you call a cab?” Thranduil asked, wondering why Galion needed him when he could easily get home in a cab. It’s not like it was that far. And Galion wouldn’t pay for it anyway; he would make Thranduil do that.

“C’mon, Thran!” Galion groaned. “I don’t wanna take a fucking cab.”

“I’m in bed, Gal. Just call a cab. You want me to do it for you?” Thranduil suggested, hoping he could get out of having to get up and put on clothes at almost two o’clock in the morning. He wanted to sleep, not drive to pick up Galion. Thranduil hated driving.

“No, just come. You’re such a baby. Scared of the car.” Galion snickered and a laugh vibrated through the phone.

Thranduil grimaced and threw the covers off himself, standing up slowly. “Fine. I’m coming. You’re at Feren’s then?”

“Yeah.” Galion said, and then the line went dead.

“Fuck.” Thranduil mumbled to himself as he threw on a shirt and a pair of sweats. He had forgone the underwear and socks. He shoved his feet into an old shabby pair of Ugg boots and wrapped a soft wool cardigan over his shoulders before heading out of his room.

Thranduil stopped in front of the door to Legolas’s room and quietly pushed the door open. He wanted to make sure his son was sleeping soundly before he left. Leaving Legolas alone in the middle of the night did not sit well with him. He took a deep breath and crept over to the bed where his son was asleep under the mass of covers. Thranduil pressed a chaste kiss to the top of his son’s head and stroked his hair tenderly.

Reluctantly, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Sorry, ‘Las.” He whispered to the closed door.

Thranduil grunted the entire way down the stairs, footfalls growing heavier as he neared the bottom steps.

“Fucking bullshit.” He lamented aloud to no one.

He didn’t know what he feared more – actually having to drive or the person the drive would lead him to. Thranduil felt a shudder run through his body as he slipped on his coat. He drove the car yesterday. Once a week was generally his limit and now he was pushing his own limits for Galion. Knots were forming in his stomach, attacking his insides and making him instantly nauseous. He wrapped his thick maroon-colored scarf around his neck, leaving his braid tucked underneath.

Thranduil looked at himself for a fraction of a second in the mirror in the foyer, sighing when he took in the sight of his appearance. He looked like shit. No one should ever go out looking like such a complete mess. At least nobody would see him, unless of course he ended up crashing the car in a panic, and then paramedics would have to extract his unconscious body from the wrecked vehicle. Then a lot of people would see him; he wasn’t even wearing any underwear. The thought almost made him go back upstairs to put a pair on. But he knew keeping Galion waiting was not a good idea, so he grabbed his keys, headed out the front door.

He shivered when the cold wind whipped him in the face like a harsh unforgiving slap. He sent out a silent prayer that the wind would be the only one doing any slapping tonight. That all depended on Galion’s mood though – which was unpredictable at best.

Thranduil practically fought his way into the car. The door wasn’t in the bed condition; it was almost frozen in place and the wind made it difficult to pull open, making him feel even more uneasy about having to drive.

Luckily it was late enough that there weren’t all that many drivers on the road. Thranduil hated having to predict their every move, always worried that he’d freak out if someone cut him off abruptly. He liked to fantasize that he’d just smash into the back of their vehicle in a blind rage, but he remained as cautious as possible, driving in a passive manner rather than being aggressive.

He started the engine, waiting for the car to heat up sufficiently before pulling out onto the road. He took in a deep breath through his nose and tried exhaling all his nervous energy as he clutched the steering wheel in a death-grip with both hands. He took the long way to Feren’s house, avoiding all left hand turns whenever possible. When he was about five minutes away, his mobile began buzzing in his pocket. Knowing it was Galion, he ignored it. He wasn’t one to answer his phone while he was driving anyway. He’d be there soon enough.

“Piss off,” he groaned. “I’m coming. Calm down.”

Galion relied on him for far too much. The bastard didn’t even work. He promptly quit his job in cell phone sales once he and Thranduil began dating. Looking back on it now, it was clear even from the beginning that Galion was only with Thranduil for his money. He was a gold digger. But back then he hid it well. Now he just outright said it, not bothering to pretend anymore.

When Thranduil pulled into Feren’s driveway, he spotted Galion sitting hunched over on the door step smoking something and taking a sip from a small flask – the one he always kept in the inner pocket of his leather jacket. Thranduil closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. Feren wasn’t outside with Galion so almost as soon as Thranduil put the car in park Galion was standing and stalking over towards the car. He stumbled into the passenger’s door with a thud, opening the door after he tossed whatever he was smoking onto the ground. Thranduil got a strong whiff of alcohol and marijuana once Galion had entered the car and slammed the door loudly.

The smell made Thranduil’s nose scrunch up and he let out a small grunt.

“Fucking finally.” Galion growled, pulling out his flask to take another sip.

“Have you not had enough to drink?” Thranduil said, more of a snide comment than an actual question.

“Shut up, Thranduil.” Galion said, words slurring as he leaned his face over closer to Thranduil’s. Galion flicked Thranduil on the cheek a few times before pressing a sloppy kiss onto the corner of his mouth.

“Stop. I can’t drive with you pestering me.”

“You can’t drive, period! We all know what happened the last--”

“I know! Just be quiet, please.”

“I’ll do what I want and I’ll say what I want. I don’t take orders from a common street whore.”

Thranduil knew once Galion started calling him names that it was best to just stay quiet. He didn’t want to fuel the flames. So he drove, keeping his eyes straight ahead and not once glancing over in the direction of his boyfriend. Of course that did not stop Galion from talking. He continued.

“You’re the nastiest slut I know. How much do they pay you a night, I wonder? A fucking high priced whore is all you are, babe. My filthy cum-hungry slut.”

Thranduil’s breathing grew heavier as he listened to the words spewing from Galion’s mouth. All the biggest lies. He hated having to hear such things being spoken about him; they made him wince internally. But he would never let Galion see how affected he was by these words. He just held his head up and kept his eyes focused on the road, trying desperately to block out Galion’s rambling.

“So, tell me, what gutter did you crawl out of to come get me? I mean, look at you! Looks like you’ve been busy. Probably already fucked three people tonight.”

Thranduil only hummed, trying his best to contain his building frustration. He had to keep it together. He wouldn’t grant Galion the power to control his emotions. He’d continue to stay silent and in control.

“I bet you take two at once.” Galion continued, snickering at his own words. “Or one at each end. Maybe Feren and I can spit roast you. I’m sure you’d love it.”

Thranduil held his breath, and bit down on his tongue hard. He wouldn’t grace that comment with a response. But the fact that he didn’t reply only seemed to anger Galion even more.

Thranduil flinched when Galion’s hand came down hard on the dash. Thranduil drew in a short breath letting his eyes avert from the road to where Galion now pounded his fists repeated on the dashboard in front of him, causing the glove compartment to pop open.

“Why don’t you say anything?” He yelled, slamming the glove compartment shut with his knee. “No, wait, I know, because you’re guilty! Because you know exactly what you are. I bet that brat of yours will end up just like you! A slut!”

“Don’t you dare talk about him that way. Say what you want about me, but leave him out of this.” Thranduil said, impressed he was able to get a full sentence out without his voice shaking too much.

“Don’t try to control me. You’re the one who will be controlled. You submit so easily too, easily enough to make me think you enjoy it. Of course you do! You love getting fucked.” Galion slapped his knee, laughing.

Thranduil scoffed. He didn’t say another word. He was not going to give Galion the pleasure of his response. What was worse though, not saying anything at all, or having the nerve to actually fight back? Both options would get a rise out of Galion, so there was no winning. If he didn’t say anything then Galion would only push harder until Thranduil finally took the bait and engaged in a fight, whether it be verbal or physical. No matter what he did, the outcome would remain the same. The only thing Thranduil had the power to control was the impending intensity of said outcome.

Galion’s hand shot out, grasping at Thranduil’s wrist, twisting it until Thranduil let go of the steering wheel.

“You gonna crash again?!” Galion hollered, pulling at Thranduil’s arm.

Thranduil groaned and pulled his arm out of Galion’s grasp. He locked his fingers around the steering wheel and held on tight. When Galion grabbed at him again the car jerked to one side.

“Are you trying to get us both killed?!” Thranduil cried, pushing Galion’s hands away once again. Of course it was a failed effort, for he now received a well-placed slap to the right side of his face.

A guttural noise rose from Thranduil’s throat when he felt the sting of Galion’s slap.

“Ow.” He mumbled.

Galion laughed, now tugging on Thranduil’s braid and pulling the elastic loose. He wound his fingers in the hair at the nape of Thranduil’s neck and pulled roughly.

They were only minutes from home now. Would they even make it, or would Thranduil get fed up of being harassed only to struggle out of Galion’s reach and end up crashing into a lamp post?

“C’mon you filthy whore! Drive faster. You’re gonna like what I’ve got planned for you.” A string of laughter erupted from Galion as he ran his hand all over Thranduil’s thigh.

Thranduil stiffened in response to the unwanted touch.

Just a few more seconds.

He turned onto their street, driving faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally.

The house was in sight.

Thranduil pulled into the driveway, coming to a quick stop as he put the car in park and pulled the keys from the ignition. Galion flung his door open and Thranduil scrambled to get his seat belt off and get out of the car.

Within seconds Galion was on Thranduil’s side of the car, yanking him forward so that their bodies slammed together. Galion flipped Thranduil around and pushed his chest unto the hood of the car. Thranduil let out a gasp when the cold metal of the car came into contact with his face. Galion grabbed his hair in one hand, pressing his knees to the backs of Thranduil’s thighs, keeping him plastered to the car. Then Galion’s other hand reached around and took hold of Thranduil’s chin as he tugged hard enough on his hair that Thranduil was now looking upward at the stars. Oh heaven help him!

“You’re going to do as I say now.” Galion growled into his ear, hot breath grazing over Thranduil’s skin, making his entire body shudder. “Think you can ignore me. I’m going to make you scream.”

Thranduil balled up his fists, used all his force to push Galion off of him and struck him in the face before he turned to make a run for the house. If only he could get inside and lock the door before Galion had a chance to follow. He didn’t stop to see if his punch had slowed down his boyfriend, he just ran. He fumbled for the house key, hands shaking. Once he got to the door and got the key into the lock a body crashed into his and he plummeted into the door. Still, he managed to get to door opened. Galion had both arms wound tightly around Thranduil’s waist, sending both of them stumbling into the house. Galion let go of Thranduil. He slammed the door behind them.

Thranduil had fallen over the welcome mat and was sprawled out on the floor.

“Please. Don’t. I’m sorry.” Thranduil stuttered, eyes fixed his own hands which held up his body.

“No you’re not.” Galion spat, bending over to grab Thranduil’s arm and haul him up. He pulled the scarf from around Thranduil’s neck and threw it to the ground, kicking it out of his way.

Hopefully the noise hadn’t woken Legolas. Thranduil willed himself to be silent and compliant. He did not want Legolas to wake up and hear what was going on.

“I am, I swear.”

“Shut up!” Galion commanded, pushing Thranduil into the living room and shoving him face first over the arm of the sofa.

“Please, Gal. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t make so much noise.”

“I won’t be the one making noise. Now take off your coat.”

Thranduil obeyed when Galion released Thranduil’s arm from his iron-grip. But as soon as Thranduil had his coat off, he was pushed back into position.

Galion held onto the back of his neck with one hand as the other hand pulled Thranduil’s shirt up and over his head. Galion’s free hand was now roaming down Thranduil’s back until he ran his palm over Thranduil’s ass, smacking it once and laughing. Galion slid his fingers along the inside of the elastic waistband of Thranduil’s sweatpants, tugging them down in one swift motion.

“Ahh! No underwear, I see. I guess a true slut is always ready and willing.” He laughed.

Thranduil didn’t speak. He closed his eyes as he felt Galion’s teeth coming into contact with his shoulder. Galion bit down hard and held Thranduil in place with both hands.

“Are you going to be good for me tonight?”

Thranduil made a small noise. It wasn’t enough for Galion.

“Answer me! Are you going to be good?” Galion shouted.

“Y-Yes!” Thranduil said, his voice ragged. He let his head rest on the sofa cushion and tried to relax his body. This would be easier if he wasn’t so tense.

Galion let go of his grip on Thranduil’s hips and Thranduil heaved a sigh of relief when he no longer felt the weight of another body on his. A few seconds of silence and Thranduil had tricked himself into believing that Galion was actually going to abandon his plan, but he knew that was a foolish hope. Galion wouldn’t stop; Galion never just stopped. Not before getting what he desired.

Thranduil winced as hands clutched his shoulders, blunt nails digging into his skin hard enough to leave marks all down his back. The hands ceased their touching for a brief moment before a hard slap landed on his backside.

Why was Galion prolonging this? Thranduil was growing impatient; he needed to get to sleep. He had to wake up early in the morning to walk Legolas to the bus stop. It was probably past three a.m now.

“If you’re going to do it, just do it.” Thranduil whined.

“So impatient, my dirty slut.”

Thranduil hummed and reached his arm around in search of Galion’s hand.

“Give me your hand.” Thranduil breathed. He always knew exactly how to help quicken the pace. He didn’t like to do it, but he did anyway.

“Why should I take orders from you?”

“Because I’m done being defiant.”

Galion grunted but let Thranduil lock his fingers around his wrist. Thranduil drew Galion’s hand around, inching his hips back from the side of the couch.

“Mmm.” Galion moaned when Thranduil guided his hand slowly over his thigh. “So you _are_ going to be good then.”

“Of course.” Thranduil exhaled. He put Galion’s hand on his cock, releasing his own hand so his boyfriend could do as he pleased. Even though this was not what Thranduil wanted his body still responded to the touch.

He tried to relax and let the tension roll of his body, letting both hands come to rest on either side of his head. He grasped at the cushion that was within his reach, squeezing it until his knuckles turned white. His heart was pounding in chest so much so that he could hear the thud of it ringing in his ears like laughter. He pushed his hips back farther and gasped when he felt the press of Galion’s hard length between his thighs.

He had an idea that would hopefully placate his boyfriend – if only for tonight.

Thranduil spun himself around quickly, vision going black for a moment before he sunk to his knees in front of Galion. The sound of a contented hum echoed around him as he took hold of Galion’s cock in one hand. He looked up at Galion through his lashes with a coy expression.

“Yes, you fucking dirty whore. Take it all in your mouth.” Galion snarled, both hands tangling into Thranduil’s hair and pulling his head forward. Thranduil opened his mouth to the intrusion, gagging a little when Galion’s cock hit the back of his throat.

“Mind the teeth.” Galion warned and tightened his grip on Thranduil’s hair until it hurt.

Thranduil could only hum in response, drawing Galion’s cock in and out of his mouth, slowly at first but speeding up due to the push of Galion’s hands on the back of his head.

Both of Thranduil’s hands were locked onto Galion’s hips as his boyfriend began thrusting into his mouth. Saliva was dripping down Thranduil’s chin but he could not wipe it away. He managed to hold back a gag as he let Galion fuck his mouth with brute force. Then, Galion pushed Thranduil backwards pulling himself from the blonde’s mouth, a wet popping sound echoing in the silence of the room.

Thranduil held his eyes closed but he could hear the slick noise of Galion stroking himself near his face. Roughly, Galion grabbed the hair at the top of Thranduil’s head and maneuvered him like he was nothing more than a rag doll. Thranduil’s body tensed as his head was tilted back, and a strong hand wound around his hair.

“Fuck.” Galion let out a loud groan, releasing himself on Thranduil’s face. Thranduil flinched as the hot liquid splattered onto his cheeks and into his hair. It dripped down over his lips and onto his chin. He immediately wanted to wipe it off.

Galion exhaled and laughed mechanically, bringing his hands to Thranduil’s face to rub his release all over the blonde’s porcelain skin and into his hair.

“Now this is a look that suits you.” Galion chortled, as his grip on Thranduil’s hair finally ceased.

Thranduil was shoved backward, head hitting into the arm of the couch as he hurriedly yanked up his pants. Was it over? Was Galion satisfied? He hoped so. Thranduil didn’t make any sudden movements besides wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and then wiping his hand onto his pants. His eyes were still closed but he could hear the sound of Galion’s zipper. Good.

“Are you happy?” Thranduil couldn’t help but ask.

“Could’ve been better. I guess I’ll just have to fuck you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Thranduil murmured, more to himself than to Galion.

Galion stepped away from Thranduil but the blonde stayed in his position on the floor. He blinked a few times before crossing his legs and rubbing the back of his neck. He needed to wash up; he felt disgusting. His hair was probably a mess and all he could think about was scrubbing his face in the hot shower. Maybe the heat of the water would be able to wash away his humiliation.

Galion must have gone into the kitchen; Thranduil could hear the clank of a glass being set down on the counter. Then the sound of a cork being popped. Galion was going to drink more, and it sounded like he was opening a bottle of wine. Galion never drank wine.

Thranduil hauled up his shirt and used it as a makeshift rag to wipe his face as clean as he could. He shuddered and pulled the shirt off, not being able to stand being near something so gross. He didn’t want to think about the state of his hair. But that was going to have to wait. He sauntered out to the kitchen and saw Galion propped against the stool sipping a glass of wine.

“Is that my expensive wine?” Thranduil asked in a meek tone. He didn’t want to anger Galion further.

“Yeah. It’s mine now.” Galion chuckled, drawing the brim of the glass to his mouth and taking a languid sip of the red liquid.

That was Thranduil’s favourite wine. Galion didn’t even like it. Surely he was only drinking it to try to piss Thranduil off – which was working, but Thranduil would never show it. No, Galion would never know how Thranduil truly felt. He sucked in a deep breath and turned on his heel, holding his head high.

“Goodnight.” Thranduil called out, making his way to the stairs.

When he got into his room he closed and locked the door behind him. Bless the locks that he had put on the bedroom door! He threw his soiled shirt into the hamper, kicked off his Uggs, and then took off his sweatpants.

He went into the ensuite bathroom, stepped into the shower, turning the water up as hot as he could bear. He let the water flood over his face, washing away all that had disgusted him. He rinsed his hair, lathering it up with shampoo and scrubbed it with vigor. He scrubbed until his head hurt and his scalp burned. Once his hair was rinsed he stood under the searing hot water. He held both arms around himself in a soothing embrace.

Fifteen minutes passed before he got out of the shower and robotically dried himself off.

He slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms – something he didn’t normally wear. But now he felt he needed something to cover himself, to act as a shield between him and the outside world. He felt safe in the pajama bottoms. And would feel even safer under the covers.

As he was lying in bed with his big fleece blanket wrapped around himself his thoughts began to lapse. It was three-forty-two a.m. What the fuck had happened? What was he doing with his life that he would actually stoop this low and let himself be so easily manipulated? Why did he go along with things that caused him such disgust? It seemed all Galion had to do was badmouth Legolas and Thranduil was putty in his hands. He didn’t know if that made him a good father, or just a weak person. But he knew if he didn’t comply with Galion’s wishes then he could very well hurt Legolas. Thranduil would never let that happen. At least he had handled the situation without it going too far, although the thought did nothing to comfort him.

His stomach was in knots and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep.

Thranduil jumped out of bed and padded into the bathroom, curling around the toilet and heaving into the porcelain bowl. He ran a hand through his wet hair and sighed, sinking lower to the ground, legs spreading out in front of himself.

Sitting on the cold tiles, it finally hit him. He was being abused. Galion was abusing him. But surely, he wouldn’t do it again. He was just angry and drunk. It couldn’t possibly happen again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Sorry. Yell at me a bit :)


	5. Numinous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard has to run the house now that his wife has practically abandoned them. He runs into an unlikely couple at a restaurant. He finally goes out for coffee with Thranduil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter, from Bard's POV. 
> 
> It's a little longer than usual, but I just had to fit in the coffee date.
> 
> Thanks to my dear EldritchMage for giving me that opening paragraph. I needed a little boost. Like usual.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! :)

Numinous (adj.) describing an experience that makes you fearful yet fascinated, awed yet attracted - the powerful, personal feeling of being overwhelmed and inspired.

* * *

 

 

Bard hadn't slept well all night, worried that he'd oversleep and not get the children off to school on time. By the time he finally dropped off, it seemed like he'd hardly settled before the alarm blasted him awake again. He groped to turn off the alarm. Now, if it were only that easy to slow his racing heart.

He managed to toss the covers off of himself before the alarm went off a second time. He rushed to the shower, washed quickly and hobbled into his work clothes. He focused on what needed to be done before leaving for work, making a mental checklist in his mind.

He had to make sure all the children were up on time, had their homework in their back packs, were fed and out of the house so they would not be late for school. Because Sigrid and Bain went to the same high school they took public transportation together. Meaning Bard would only be responsible for getting Tilda to her elementary school on time after the two older children had left.

It was just past six-thirty a.m. when Bard emerged from his room. He banged on Sigrid’s door, receiving a “yes, Da, I’m up” in response. He then knocked on Bain’s door. All he heard was grumbling, telling him that his son was most likely still in bed. Why was Bain always the hardest to wake?

“Wake up, Bain.” He called out, knocking a few more times. After a moment the door flung open to reveal a bleary-eyed Bain running a hand over his face.

“I’m awake.” Bain groaned.

“Don’t go back to bed. Bus is at seven-thirty-five.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You might want to go shower.” Bard suggested.

“I’m going first, Da!” Sigrid announced as she opened her bedroom door.

“You take forever! Let me go first!” Bain hollered, finally gathering up enough gumption to step out of his room.

“Ew. Gross, Bain.” Sigrid said when she caught sight of Bain’s green alligator boxers.

“Ew. Gross, Sig! Put on a bra!” Bain made a face of disgust and Sigrid folded her arms over her chest, sticking her tongue out at her brother.

“Well, excuse me, but I’m not going to sleep with a bra on.” Sigrid rebuked.

“Okay! Guys, just get ready, please. Bain, let your sister shower first. She takes longer doing the makeup stuff so let her get her shower over with now.” Bard cut in to stop them from bickering.

“Fine, don’t take a thousand years!”

“I’ll be quick, Bain. I’m not washing my hair.”

Bard sighed. He didn’t want to get overwhelmed with the children so early in the morning. He just hoped they wouldn’t squabble too much while getting ready. Bard had more important things on his mind, like what he would say to his boss about why he was going to be showing up late, and leaving early. That was a conversation he didn’t want to have.

“I guess I’ll get Tilda up.” Bard said to himself as Sigrid dug around in the linen closet for a towel.

“Good idea, Da.” She said over her shoulder.

Bard knocked lightly on Tilda’s door. It was already a crack open, but Bard liked to respect the children’s privacy and always taught them to knock before entering someone else’s room.

“Til, time to wake up, honeybee.”

No reply.

So Bard pushed the door open, peering inside to witness Tilda wrapped up in her soft pink blanket, one leg protruding from the covers and both arms holding onto her stuffed unicorn tightly. Bard chuckled at the sight of her tousled hair, sticking up in all directions. He sat on the side of her bed, brushing the stray hairs from her face.

“Tilda, wake up.” He said again.

Tilda groaned, shuffling under the covers, a big yawn escaping her lips.

“I’m up, Da.’ Tilda said quietly, voice still heavy with sleep. She hugged her unicorn and stretched.

“Do you need me to help you pick an outfit for the day?” Bard asked.

“Silly, Da. I can do that myself.” She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“Just making sure. What do you want for breakfast?”

“Eggs, please.”

“Okay. I’ll go get started while you get dressed and washed up. Your sister is in the shower now, then Bain, so you’ll have to wait a while before using the bathroom.”

“That’s okay.”

“Good girl.” Bard said, ruffling her hair before leaning over to press a kiss to the top of her head. “And brush this hair. It’s everywhere.”

Tilda giggled, pushing Bard’s hand away before they both got up from the bed. Tilda went to her dresser and Bard made his way for the hall.

A small voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Da…” Tilda began. “Is mommy coming back home today?”

Bard sighed, turning around to face his daughter. A look of sadness clouded her features, her brows knit together in confusion.

“I don’t think so honeybee. But you have me.” Bard’s expression softened as he spoke to her. “And you can always call her.”

Tilda shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why does she hate you? You’re the best Da in the world!”

Bard smiled. “Thanks, darling.” Tilda took a few steps and wrapped her arms around Bard’s waist. Bard kissed the top of her head, embracing her tightly. “You’re the best, too, my sweet girl.”

Once Tilda had started getting ready, Bard hurried down the stairs. He skipped the two bottom steps on the way down and practically flew into the kitchen. He pulled a large bowl from the cupboard and found the eggs in the refrigerator. He selected six of them – he’d needed to pick up more on his lunch hour today – and cracked them into the bowl, stirring them until they were light yellow in colour. He added a bit of milk and a pinch of paprika, salt and pepper. Tilda liked the paprika.

Just as Bard poured the egg mixture into the frying pan, Tilda appeared at his side.

“Can I have mine in a wrap?”

“Sure, if we have the tortillas. Check and see. Maybe Sig and Bain will want that too.”

“Yup, three left. Perfect.” Tilda said, holding up the pack of tortillas that had been put into a ziploc bag so they wouldn’t dry out. Clearly Madison had done that. Bard wouldn’t have thought of it, and the tortillas would have been rock hard.

“Put in cheese, Da!” Tilda instructed, finding the bag of shredded cheddar in the fridge and shoving it at Bard. “Here!”

Bard took the bag of cheese, inspecting it as he continued turning the eggs in the pan, carefully so they wouldn’t burn.

“Will your sister and brother like it with cheese?” He asked.

“Yeah! Cheese is the best, everyone loves cheese.” Tilda said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Bard shrugged; he really needed to learn what everyone liked in terms of meals. He didn’t know all the food his children liked and disliked. All he knew for sure was that Tilda hated onions, Bain wouldn’t go near seafood and Sigrid wouldn’t eat pickles if her life depended on it. Though, these tastes were always subject to change as time passed, just as many childhood food aversions are overcome with age.  

Bard sprinkled some cheese into the eggs and let it melt. He dished out some of the eggs onto a wrap for Tilda and she proceeded to add some more paprika and some ketchup.

Sigrid came down stairs and let Bard know that Bain had just got into the shower before taking her breakfast and sitting down at the table with them. They ate in silence for the most part. Sigrid went back up to her room to put on some makeup and Bard warned her to go easy on the eyeliner. Bain had finished showering and came down, grumbling a little when he realized the eggs were no longer warm.

“Just put them in the microwave for a few seconds, Bain. It’s fine.” Bard told him, putting the frying pan into the sink and running water on it. He let it soak for now; he would do all the dishes properly after work.

Bain ate quickly, barely stopping for a breath. Sigrid emerged again, this time with her makeup on and her bag over her shoulder. When Bain was finished eating, he put his plate in the dishwasher and ran back upstairs to get his back pack.

“Hurry up, Bain. We’ve gotta go to the bus in five minutes. I won’t wait for you.” Sigrid yelled out to her brother.

“Coming!” Bain called from upstairs.

The two older children put on their winter coats and boots. Bard went to lock the door behind them, making sure they both had a house key to get in when they finished school. He reminded them of what time he would be home and told them to text him during the day if they needed anything at all.

“Love you, Da!” They chorused as they made their way out the front door and off to the bus stop.

“You have your bus passes? And you took your lunches from the fridge?”

“Yes, Da, don’t worry!” Sigrid assured him, waving as they went.

Bard didn’t know how to not worry. Worrying was part of his nature.

There was still some time before he had to drive Tilda to school, so Bard picked up the phone and called work. He let them know he would be in a bit late because he had to drive his daughter to school and luckily, he didn’t get cussed out.

Tilda was on the couch watching some cartoon on TV while Bard transferred some of the dishes from the sink to the dishwasher. Since he had the time he washed and dried the frying pan, putting it back in its usual spot for next time. One less thing to do when he got home.

Before he knew it, it was time to go. He corralled Tilda out of the house and into the backseat of the car, making sure she had her seatbelt on. He dropped her off at school and let her know he would pick her up from her after school program at five o’clock.

Bard got to work at the time he said he would, which was a half hour later than he normally started. He sighed and clocked in. He started working immediately; no dilly-dallying today.

While he was working, Bard thought more and more about the idea of a divorce. He was indifferent about it. While he was unhappy with Madison, he wasn’t unhappy enough to hire a lawyer he couldn’t even afford and go through all the stress of what a divorce actually entailed. He would also have to sit down with Madison and talk it out before any decisions were made. When that would happen he didn’t know. So for now, he tried to forget about it entirely. He was busy at work and the day seemed to go by quickly. He ignored Percy’s questions about his marital situation when asked, keeping to himself most of the day. He knew he would have to go pick up some food during his lunch; they needed eggs, milk, cereal and maybe something that would make a fast dinner.

Every now and then the image of a beautiful blonde would enter his mind briefly, but there wasn’t enough time in the day to reward himself with those thoughts. Most of his day was spent under various cars, fretting over how he would possibly get all his work for the day done and still make it home in time to get dinner on the table for the children. He never realized how hard it was to survive as a single parent until now.

Lunch time crept up on him and he only stopped working when Percy told him what the time was. Bard huffed, stopping what he was doing and going straight to the sink to wash his hands and then to clock out for his hour lunch. Percy asked if he wanted to get shawarma together, but he regretfully had to decline. Duties called – he needed to go to the grocery store at the nearest plaza. There was a restaurant there that he could stop at for lunch but he doubted he would have enough time to eat and make it back to work before the hour was up. Eating out was a waste of money anyway, he told himself. He had packed himself a lunch which he ate in the car before driving to the plaza.

He was in and out of the grocery store in a flash, purchasing all the items they needed. As Bard was walking towards the car, he passed by the restaurant. He stopped abruptly – something caught his eye. Or rather, someone. Madison. He was almost sure of it. That had to be her sitting inside. He looked again, squinting his eyes in an effort to get a better look. Yes, that was definitely his wife. And she wasn’t alone. She was sitting in a booth with a man, eating a salad as the two of them talked. Neither of them noticed Bard outside the window. He felt sick, betrayed. Who was this man? Why was she out for lunch with him? She never wanted to go out anywhere with Bard.

Bard swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to blink. It was only when he saw Madison laugh and put her hand on the man’s arm that Bard could no longer restrain himself; he had to go in and say something. It didn’t even cross his mind how foolish he may look for doing so. He clutched the grocery bags tighter and pushed the restaurant door open with his foot, ignoring the hostess who acknowledged him on his way in. He grumbled some incoherent words, making his way over to the booth where Madison and her male friend were sitting.

“Madison.” He said, his hands beginning to shake.

Madison pulled her eyes away from the man and gasped when she saw Bard. She hesitated before saying anything and her friend just stared at Bard with wide judgmental eyes.

“Uh…what are --” She began, looking back and forth between Bard and her friend, as if he would be able to save her from her discomfort. “Why are you here?”

“Groceries.” Bard said, holding up the bags. “The kids need to eat.”

Madison hummed. The man’s brow knit together before he spoke up.

“Who is this?” He asked Madison.

“I’m her husband.” Bard cut in before Madison could make up a lie. “And this food here,” he held up the bags again, “is for our children.”

The man’s face turned sour and he scoffed, turning back to Madison.

“You have kids?”

“They’re with him now. We aren’t together anymore, you know that.”

Bard sighed. His foot began tapping involuntarily as if he was impatiently waiting for some sort of outcome. What did he expect to happen here?

“And who are you?” Bard finally asked the man.

“We’re together, Bard.” Madison said, holding up her hand to shush the man – her what? Her boyfriend?

“What do you mean?”

“Madison and I are a couple.”

“Just fucking wonderful! You really are a piece of work!” Bard began yelling, not caring whether or not he was scaring other patrons.

“Calm down. You’re making a scene.” Madison shushed him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had children?” The asshole asked Madison.

“You knew about me but not our children?” Bard butt in.

Madison waved her hand dismissively in Bard’s direction, eyes still focused on the man in front of her. “I know you aren’t a kid person, and it’s not like you’ll ever have to see them. They’ll be with him.”

“You don’t deserve them.” Bard said, voice growing louder.

“Well I don’t want to look after them. I have a business to run.” The asshole gritted his teeth and took a sip of his fancy wine.

“Oh la-dee-da!” Bard exclaimed.

Madison shot him a deadly glare before turning back to her asshole boyfriend. “I know. You won’t have to worry about them! They won’t take me away from you.”

They started bickering with each other as if Bard wasn’t even there. He was kind of glad he was causing them to argue with each other. He let out a loud huff, finally allowing himself a moment to take in the sight before him. Madison was dressed better than she ever had been when they went out together. Her hair was curled and she had a full face of makeup, dark red lipstick. She certainly was trying to impress this guy. Bard hadn’t seen her looking that good in years.

“Can you go?” Madison’s voice pulled Bard back to reality. He was fuming now.

“Me? Go? I can’t believe you! How long has this been going on?” Bard would’ve thrown up his hands if it weren’t for the bags he was holding.

“Bard, just leave. I don’t want to see you right now.”

“You won’t have to see me ever again.” Bard annunciated each syllable, turning on his heel to walk away. “You two deserve each other!” He yelled over his shoulder, granting him a few shocked stares from patrons. He stomped out of the restaurant, the bags of food swinging with the force of his steps.

He made it to the car and tossed the groceries in the back seat, slamming the door. He was barely into the driver’s seat before a scream broke free from his throat, cutting the silence like a knife. How could that fucking bitch do this to him?! He was furious. He sat in the car for a few minutes trying to steady his breath. He didn’t care if he would be late getting back to work; he just needed the pounding of his heart to stop.

Bard managed to get himself back to work without experiencing too much road rage, although he did yell at a few cars along the way. He grabbed the food from the backseat and put it in the fridge in the break room so it wouldn’t spoil in the car. When he clocked back in, he realized he was five minutes late. Percy gave him a look but didn’t say anything more. Luckily their boss was on his lunch and wasn’t around to say anything about Bard’s tardiness.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Bard ended up finishing all his jobs, working without pause. He left the garage at exactly five o’clock, showing up fifteen minutes late to pick up Tilda. She was waiting inside the school entrance for him and came running out as soon as she saw the car.

“I’m so sorry, honeybee.” He said to her once she got into the back seat and buckled up.

“It’s okay, Da. I was only waiting a few minutes.”

“I left as soon as I could.”

“Don’t worry, Da. It’s okay.” She said. It was times like these that Bard was glad he had such wonderful children.

When they arrived home Sigrid and Bain were both at the kitchen table, heads buried in what looked to be school work.

“Homework?” Bard asked.

“Hello to you too, Da.” Sigrid said.

“Sorry, hello Sig, Bain.”

“Hey, yes, doing homework.” Bain answered without looking up, his pen scribbling away.

Bard was relieved they were actually working on their homework. That would be one less thing to pester them about later on tonight.

He got dinner ready as the children finished up the remainder of their homework, making small talk every now and then. He helped Tilda with her math worksheet and made sure to get her to put it back in her folder when she was finished. Bain and Sigrid set the table without Bard asking; he was grateful for their help. Everything was going quite smoothly so far.

Everyone was quiet while they were eating, the only sound coming from Bain wolfing down his food. Sigrid shushed him a few times before giving up altogether. Bain finished first and put his plate in the dishwasher. He excused himself to go and play video games in the living room.

Tilda didn’t end up eating everything so Bard finished it off. He was never one to waste food. Sigrid hung around to help Bard clear off the table. When the task was finally complete, Bard sighed heavily; he could finally rest. Getting his mind to rest was another story, though. He kept replaying that awful scene from the restaurant over and over in his head, wondering what he could’ve done differently if only he had been calm enough to think things through before spewing his words.

He could feel Sigrid watching him as he ran his hand over his face. He must look exhausted. He glanced up at his eldest child who was grabbing a mug from the cupboard.

“What’s wrong, Sig?” He asked, knowing by her expression that something was troubling her.

“So, I texted Ma today and she didn’t even reply.” Sigrid began. “I don’t understand why she’s avoiding us.” She plopped a tea bag into a cup and filled the teakettle with water, putting it on to boil.

“Maybe she just needs some time. She could be busy with work…” Bard said, hoping his voice didn’t reveal the lies he was speaking. He knew exactly why she wasn’t replying to her own children but he didn’t know if he could bring himself to say anything about it.

“She wouldn’t just ignore us, though. I don’t get it!”

“She’s being a bitch!” Bain exclaimed from the living room. Of course he was listening to their conversation.

“Bain! Don’t use that language.” Bard scolded.

“What? It’s the word for a female dog. It’s not bad.”

“It doesn’t matter. Don’t call your mother that.”

“Fine. But it’s true. She’s just avoiding us all. No messages, nothing.”

“Yeah, Da. It’s as if we don’t even exist.” Sigrid said, pouring the hot water into her cup.

“She’ll get back to you eventually, just give her some time. She still loves you guys.” Bard reassured them. The last thing he wanted was for his children to feel that their mother didn’t care about them. But after today, he had to wonder where her priorities were.

They watched a bit of TV together and when it was Tilda’s bedtime Bard went upstairs with her, tucked her in and made sure she was comfortable before giving her a goodnight kiss. Thankfully, she didn’t put up a fight and managed to settle down rather easily.

Once Bain and Sigrid retreated to their bedrooms for the night, Bard didn’t know what to do with himself. He sat on the couch, scrolling through the messages on his phone. Really, the only messages he had to look at were the ones from Thranduil. His breath caught as an idea popped into his head. Would it be wrong to text him now? Should he do it or just ignore his own desires? He could just text to say hi. No harm in that.

[To: T] 10:24pm – Hey. How has your day been?

He looked over the message to make sure it was appropriate before sending it. It seemed fine. He hit send and sat his phone on the arm of the sofa, letting himself focus on the TV once more.

Bard was surprised when his phone dinged so suddenly after he had sent the message. He grabbed it and opened the message window, smiling to himself.

[From: T] 10:26pm – Hey, you :) My day has been pretty good. Painting, again. How was yours?

[To: T] 10:27pm – That’s good to hear. Commission soon done? My day was alright, busy at work.

[From: T] 10:28pm – It’s getting there. Just working on the details now. Busy is good, makes the day go by faster. What do you do anyway?

Bard sighed. He was almost embarrassed to tell the beautiful artiste that he was a grungy old mechanic. But he didn’t want to tell a lie that he wouldn’t be able to talk himself out of.

[To: T] 10:30pm – I’m a mechanic. Very boring, I know.

[From: T] 10:32pm – Pft. Don’t be hard on yourself. It’s an art to be able to fix cars. There’s something wrong with my car door and I’m clueless.

[To: T] 10:33pm – Ha, thanks. I could take a look at it if you’d like…

[From: T] 10:34pm – As long as you don’t think I’m using you for your mechanic skills.

[To: T] 10:35pm – Lol, I would never think that. I’d be happy to look at it.

[From: T] 10:37pm – You’re a gem. :)

[To: T] 10:39pm – Oh, you and your flattery. So are we still on for Friday?

[From: T] 10:40pm –Yes, of course. I’m craving a caramel macchiato.

[To: T] 10:41pm – I have no idea what that is, lol.

[From: T] 10:42pm – Lol, I take it you like your coffee black…

[To: T] 10:44pm – Am I that obvious?

[From: T] 10:45pm – Yup, you’re very obvious

Bard sat his phone down beside him on the couch, sighing. What did Thranduil mean that he was ‘very obvious’? Was his attraction very obvious? Probably. He felt a little shaken, but instead of letting his nerves consume him he made an attempt to flirt. This was going to go horribly awry.  

[To: T] 10:48pm – Your beauty is very obvious too.

[From: T] 10:49pm – Oh, stop! You’re going to make me blush.

[To: T] 10:50pm – It’s only the truth, but I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times.

[From: T] 10:52pm – Not from anyone that’s actually meant it sincerely.

[To: T] 10:54pm – Do you believe that I’m sincere about it?

[From: T] 10:56pm – Yes.

[To: T] 10:56pm – Good :)

[From: T] 10:58pm – but I do have to say something…

Oh, god. What was he going to say? Bard frowned at his phone, worrying that Thranduil had just been messing with him the entire time and was about to call off their coffee date. If it could even be called a date…

Before Bard could even type out a reply, his phone buzzed again.

[From: T] 11:00pm – I hope I haven’t scared you with my flirting yesterday… I was only teasing you and I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. I’m not really like that in person. I just got carried away…

Bard let out the breath he was holding. Thranduil was only worried that he’d over stepped. He wasn’t going to cancel the date. Bard smiled at his phone and typed out his response.

[To: T] 11:02pm – I figured you were just being bold, lol. No need to worry. I was scared you wanted to cancel our coffee meeting.

[From: T] 11:03pm – Phew. I thought I freaked you out. Good. And I would never cancel on you. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.

[To: T] 11:05 – You didn’t freak me out, I assure you. I’m looking forward to seeing you too.

[From:T] 11:06pm – I’m glad :)

[To: T] 11:08pm – Hey, I’ve gotta get to bed now. Work early tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later though?

[From: T] 11:10pm – Yes, of course. Text me anytime, I always have my phone on me while I’m working. Have a good sleep :)

[To: T] 11:12pm – I’ll text you later then. Goodnight :) Sleep well.

[From: T] 11:13pm – Night

Bard trudged up the stairs. He didn’t know how to feel right now. His emotions were mixed – still angry about Madison, but happy because of his conversation with Thranduil. He tried to let all his thoughts evaporate as he settled in to bed. Sleep found him easier than it had the night before.

Tuesday went by much the same as Monday. Everyone was out of the house in the morning without complications. Bard got all his jobs done for the day before leaving the garage and he managed to make a nice lasagna with the help of the children for dinner that night.

On Wednesday after work Bard did a little research on the computer. He found the numbers of lawyers and made a few phone calls to find out how to go about filing for divorce. He wanted to slam the papers down in front of Madison before she could do it to him. Finding a good lawyer for an affordable price was going to be difficult, but he held hope. He wanted full custody of the children, and if Madison wanted to fight him on that, then he wouldn’t go into court without a lawyer who could win his case. Although, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that, he hoped he and Madison could come to an easy settlement. But nothing had ever been easy with Madison, so he prepared for the worst.

Being so busy, Bard hadn’t had a chance to talk to Thranduil since the last time they texted on Monday. Once his research was done for the night and he has gotten into bed, he took the time to check his phone, which he hadn’t looked at since getting home from work that evening.

He smirked when he saw that he had a missed text from Thranduil. The blonde man was always able to make him smile; it was a nice distraction from the crap he was going through with Madison. Knowing that Madison was seeing someone else gave him even more incentive to pursue a relationship with Thranduil. Bard no longer felt guilty for his actions. He finally admitted to himself that he liked Thranduil and was indeed interested in him romantically. Bard deserved someone who saw him as more than just a problem that needed fixing.

He opened the message and smiled when he finally read Thranduil’s text.

[From: T] 7:44pm – Hi handsome, hope you’re having a good day <3

[To: T] 10:59pm – Hey beautiful, sorry for the late reply. Hope you had a good day too :)

Bard held onto his phone after sending the message, looking at the screen in anticipation. He was hoping for a quick reply. But after ten minutes of staring at the words in front of him, no response came. He figured Thranduil must be asleep, or busy finishing his commission; Bard remembered he said it had to be done for Thursday. So he plugged his phone in, made sure his alarm was set and turned off the lamp. Sleep eluded him; he couldn’t slow his racing mind, unable to stop himself from stealing glances at his phone to see in any messages came through. He eventually drifted off to sleep when he could no longer keep his eyes open.

Thursday went by in a blur. Bard was really busy at work and didn’t even have time to stop for his full lunch hour. That night the children asked more questions about their mother that Bard did his best to avoid answering. He didn’t know how to tell them that she was involved with someone else, especially since that someone else did not like the fact that she had children. It angered Bard that Madison had not even tried to keep contact with her own children.

Bard still hadn’t told the children that he was going out on Friday night, so he figured now, at the dinner table, was the perfect time to bring it up. He drew in a breath before speaking.

“So…” Bard started hesitantly. “I’m going out tomorrow night.”

“Ooo, going out where?” Sigrid asked, stabbing her fork into her salad and shooting Bard an incredulous look.

“Da, going out? No way!” Bain chimed in.

Tilda didn’t say anything, just continued eating quietly.

“Yes way. I’m going out for coffee.”

“With who?”

Bard sighed, setting his fork down with a clank. Of course Sigrid would ask that.

“Just a friend.”

“A friend? Who?” Bain questioned.

“Just a friend.” Bard repeated. This was going to be awkward. He should’ve known the children would question until they dragged the truth right out of him.

“What kind of friend?” Sigrid asked, still picking through the last bits of feta in her salad.

“A friend, Sig. Enough questions, please.”

“But, Da. We want to know.” Tilda finally spoke up, eyes gazing into Bard’s when he glanced over in her direction.

“You know all you need to know. I’m going out for coffee with a friend. So, Sig you’ll be in charge tomorrow night while I’m out.”

“Okay, Da. But who is this person? A man or a woman?”

“Sig!” Bard shook his head, but gave in. “A man.”

“Do you like him?”

“I barely know him, that’s why we are going out.”

“On a date?!” Bain exclaimed, almost choking on his juice.

“No, not a date. Just coffee. Coffee doesn’t equal a date.”

“What about Ma?”

“What about her?”

“She’s practically abandoned us, Bain.” Sigrid said. “Da can go out if he wants.”

“But a date? Ma would kill him!”

“It’s not a date!” Bard said, exasperated. “And I doubt your mother would care.”

“Are you going to cheat on her?” Bain pressed.

“I’m not cheating on anybody!” Bard groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Have you talked to mommy yet?” Tilda asked Bard with an inquisitive expression. She had stopped eating altogether, just sitting there watching her father and siblings.

Bard had to tell them what he had witnessed on Monday at the restaurant. They deserved to know that he and his mother no longer wanted to stay married. He didn’t like keeping secrets, yet he didn’t want to unintentionally hurt his children. Maybe leaving out the part about her new male friend would be the best idea for now.

“I talked to her, yes.” Bard said curtly.

“And…”

“And we decided…” Bard said, words trailing off with unease. “We decided that maybe it would be best for all of us if we didn’t stay married.”

“So, you’re going to get divorced?” Bain inquired.

“I think it will have to come to that, yes. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

“I understand, Da.” Sigrid said. “You two were not happy together. You seem a lot happier now without Ma here and it’s only been a few days. So I think it’s for the best.”

“Thank you, Sig.” Bard replied, a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. He was glad Sigrid was mature enough to understand that his relationship with their mother was toxic and unhealthy for the whole family.

Bain only nodded. He seemed to understand, but Bard knew his emotions could become volatile if he didn’t get them off his chest. It was only a matter of time before he started ranting about it. Tilda didn’t speak. Her features were twisted into a frown. It broke Bard’s heart to see how clearly distraught she was about this.

“Til?” Bard ventured, wanting to make sure she was okay with what he had just told them.

“Yeah, Da. I’m okay. As long as mommy still loves me…”

“Of course she still loves you. She will always love you.” Bard hoped his words weren’t lies. But after what Madison had said, he really wasn’t sure.

Everyone was helping to clear off the table when Bard’s mobile rang. He frantically looked around for it, not remembering where he left it. Bain swiped it from the counter, glancing at it before he held it out to Bard.

“T is calling you.”

“Oh.” Bard took his phone and made his way to the stairs so he could answer in the privacy of his room. This is the first time Thranduil had ever called him. He scurried into his bedroom and closed the door, swallowing the lump in his throat before answering.

“Hello?”

“Bard?” Thranduil’s deep lulling voice echoed through the phone, sending a shiver down Bard’s spine. That voice speaking his name was enough to make him melt right then and there.

“Hey, how are you?” Bard said, glad his voice didn’t come out too shaky.

“Good. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to text you back yesterday.”

“That’s alright. Did you finish your landscape?”

“Yes. It’s done. And how’re you doing?” Thranduil’s voice was quiet and he spoke tentatively.

“I’m good, just had dinner.”

“That’s good. So tomorrow…” Thranduil began, words trailing off before he went silent.

“Yes, tomorrow…you still want to go right?” Bard had to ask. All of a sudden he was worried Thranduil was going to cancel on him.

“Of course. Just want to know the details. When, where…”

Thank god. Bard sat down on the bed to stop himself from pacing around.

“Well there’s this little coffee shop down near the lake that I’ve always like. It’s quiet and cozy. I thought we could go there.”

“That sounds nice. Just text me the address so I can look it up.”

“Okay, will do.”

“And what time?”

“Well, I’m done work around five – five-thirty, so I was thinking six-thirty or seven? Does that work for you?”

“Yeah that’s perfect.” Thranduil said in that alluring voice. Bard had a hard time keeping his thoughts straight.

There was a loud clattering sound from Thranduil’s end and he groaned, drawing Bard from his explicit ponderings.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I’ve gotta go, Bard. Send me the address and I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m glad you called. It was nice talking to you…”

“Nice talking to you, too. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.” Bard could practically hear the leer in Thranduil’s tone.

“Can’t wait. Have a good evening.”

“You too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Bard tossed his phone down on the bed and let his head fall backwards into his pillow. It was nice talking to Thranduil, to actually be able to hear his voice. He definitely wasn’t as brazen over the phone as he was through text messages. That was a good thing, though. Bard didn’t know how he would answer if Thranduil had been flirtatious with him. He’d probably end up stuttering and embarrassing himself beyond belief.

Before going to bed, he texted the address of the coffee shop to Thranduil and wished him a good night.

Friday dragged. Bard just wanted to finish work so he could get home. His nerves were acting up in anticipation for his coffee meeting with Thranduil. He worked slower and wasn’t able to fully focus on his daily tasks. When he finally made it to the house and put dinner on for the children, he was caught up with worrying about what he was going to wear. He had been distracted when they children talked to him, only giving them simple one word answers.

“So tonight’s the night?” Sigrid asked as she got a pitcher of water from the fridge.

“Yeah and I have no idea what to wear.” Bard knew he sounded like a teenager, worrying about his appearance. That only made it more obvious that this wasn’t just a meeting with a friend.

“So this _is_ a date then?” Sigrid grinned, setting the pitcher in the middle of the table.

“I don’t know, Sig. Maybe.” Bard confessed sheepishly. Apparently he couldn’t hide his excitement from his overly perceptive daughter. She could see right through him.

“I don’t care if it is a date, Da. I just want you to be happy.”

“Thanks, honey. You always have my back.”

“Of course.”

Bard went upstairs once the children had their dinner. He had been too anxious to eat with them, only managing to eat bits and pieces of last night’s leftovers. It was just past six. He stood in front of the closet, grimacing at all of Madison’s deserted clothing. Bard sighed; he didn’t own many nice outfits. He was usually in his work clothes and didn’t find himself ever needing to dress up for anything, so he mostly owned jeans and t-shirts. Boring and plain. He wondered what Thranduil would wear. Something much nicer than he could afford, that’s for sure. He went with a simple grey t-shirt and a blue and black plaid flannel shirt over top, pairing that with dark denim jeans.

Bard and Thranduil had agreed to meet at the coffee shop for six-forty-five, but Bard ended up arriving almost fifteen minutes early. He sat in his car, twiddling his fingers and picking at the lint on his shirt. What on earth was he supposed to talk to Thranduil about? He couldn’t talk about his own life too much without revealing that he had children. And the only worries that plagued him as of recent were his troubles with Madison. He had been spending so much time looking into the divorce that he really didn’t have much else going on. He couldn’t talk about himself, or something might slip. Focusing the conversation on Thranduil would be easier. Bard never liked talking about himself anyway. Asking Thranduil about his art was probably the best call.

At six-thirty-nine, Bard couldn’t wait any longer. He sent Thranduil a quick text telling him he was there and would be waiting inside.

Please lord, don’t let Thranduil stand him up. He wouldn’t be able to handle the humiliation.

As he sat down at one of the small two-person tables, his mobile buzzed in his pocket. Thranduil texted him back saying he’d be there in a minute. Immediately Bard’s heart rate sped up. He hadn’t done this sort of thing in years and had no idea what to expect. He used to be a good conversationalist, but now he wasn’t sure. He tried to steady his breathing by taking deep breaths, in and out. Just focus on the breath. His attempts were futile; he was legitimately nervous and the feeling brought him back to his memories of high school.

Just as the door of the coffee shop opened Bard’s breath hitched. He couldn’t swallow.

Thranduil walked in, long hair swaying around his shoulders like a pearlescent waterfall. Bard’s eyes grew wide as the blonde man strode over in his direction, a smirk on his face, and those blue eyes sparkling in dim ambient lighting. He was wearing a crimson red peacoat and tight black pants. God, he was gorgeous. Completely out of Bard’s league. Bard pushed those thoughts aside; Thranduil was here to see him.

“Hi.” Thranduil said gingerly, pulling out the chair across from Bard and sitting down.

“Hey.” Bard chimed. He couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m glad you showed up.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t just stand you up.” There was that infuriating smirk again.

“Well, you never know.”

“Anyone who would stand you up is an idiot.”

They smiled at each other for a moment before Bard gestured in the direction of the cash.

“You want to order something?”

“Yeah. I hope they can do a macchiato for me.”

“I’m sure they can figure it out.” Bard stood and Thranduil mirrored the action, both of them walking over to the cash, side by side.

Bard longed to reach out and touch Thranduil’s hand just to see if his skin really was as soft as he imagined it to be. But that would have to wait.

They ordered their drinks, Bard got a black coffee, and Thranduil got his beloved macchiato. Bard still wasn’t sure exactly what it was. He paid for both their drinks, despite Thranduil’s reluctance.

“Thanks for paying. That’s very kind of you.” Thranduil said once they took their seats.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll pay next time.”

Next time? Bard hoped there would be a next time. He barely knew the man, but he was already enjoying his presence. Somehow being around this ethereal creature did a good job to soothe his mind.

“It’s a deal.” Bard said, blowing on his coffee and taking a languid sip, being careful not to burn his tongue.

Thranduil licked some of the whipped cream off of his macchiato before tasting it. “Mmm, this is good.”

“I still don’t even know what a macchiato is.” Bard chuckled.

“You wanna try some?” Thranduil offered.

“Sure.” Bard took the drink from Thranduil and sniffed it before taking a sip. It was good, but extremely sweet. “Pretty good. Very sweet.”

“I like sweet.” Thranduil commented off-handedly when Bard slid the drink back to him.

“It suits you.” Bard smiled. “So tell me about your art.”

“My art?” Thranduil mused. “What would you like to know?”

“How long have you been an artist?”

“Practically my whole life.” Thranduil sipped at his drink leisurely before continuing. “But if you mean professionally, as a career, then I’ve been an artist for almost ten years.”

“Wow. I can’t even draw a stick figure.” Bard laughed. “Do you just draw and paint or do other things as well?”

“I dabble. I paint, draw, sculpt. I used to do glass blowing but it’s hard to find the time for that now. And the space…”

“Glass blowing. That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah. I liked making wine glasses and vases. Nothing too intricate.”

“Wine glasses?”

Thranduil nodded. “Yeah. What can I say? I like my wine.”

“Maybe I’ll have to take you wine tasting one day.”

“Oh. I’d love that.”

Bard didn’t know why he was making these sorts of suggestions, but he couldn’t stop himself. The more he looked into Thranduil’s eyes, the more enamored he became. Thranduil was like a silent master of seduction, flirting with little more than his eyes. Bard noticed he was nothing like he portrayed himself to be the first time they texted. All of his cheekiness was hidden beneath the surface and Bard couldn’t wait to see that side of him come out.

“And what about you?” Thranduil placed both arms on the table, leaning in closer. “What do you enjoy doing? Do you enjoy being a mechanic?”

“Well, it pays the bills, but it’s not something I’m extremely passionate about. Just a job.”

“So then what are you passionate about?”

Bard rested a hand beneath his chin as he thought on that. “I used to like doing archery.”

“Used to? So you don’t do it anymore?” Thranduil questioned, blue eyes seeming to stare into the very depths of Bard’s soul.

“No time these days with work and all. I’ve been thinking about starting up again.”

“You should. Were you any good?”

 “I was pretty good.” Bard shrugged. He knew he was better than just ‘pretty good’, but modesty suited him better than cockiness.

“You should start up again. Maybe one day we can go to an archery range or whatever you call it and you can show off your skills for me.” Thranduil smirked.

“You’d actually be interested in that?”

“Yeah, of course. Seeing you in your element…why not?”

“I’d need some serious practice before I’d let you watch me.”

Thranduil made a dismissive sound and took another sip of his sugary drink. “I’d be impressed either way.”

“I’d have to dig my old bow out of the garage and string it, but if you really wanted to we could take a trip out to the range one weekend if the weather allows.”

“That would be nice. Maybe you could teach me.”

“I’ve been told I’m a very strict teacher.” Bard chuckled.

“I’ll be good and obey your instruction.” Thranduil grinned.

“You’re a cheeky bastard, you know that right?”

“I know, and this isn’t the first time you’ve told me.”

“Well, it’s true.” Bard laughed, running his thumb over the edge of his mug. “So you said you were also working on an abstract painting?”

“Yes, the abstract. I have a bunch on the go at once. I mostly paint them for myself. Not a lot of people understand abstract, or they will try to dissect it hoping to find something in it that they can understand. But really it’s different to everyone.”

“I like abstract art. I think they’re interesting to look at and capture emotion really well.”

“That’s why I like them. So much raw emotion, and everyone perceives it in their own way. Where I might see anger, someone else may see sadness or happiness. It’s really very personal.”

“Anyone can make a connection.”

“Exactly.”

Bard looked down at his coffee; unaware that he had barely drank any of it.

“Drink that before it gets cold. Mine’s almost gone.” Thranduil said.

“At least it won’t burn my mouth now.” Bard replied, taking a sip from his mug.

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that.” Thranduil chuckled, clasping his fingers together on the table.

“No, definitely not. So, that picture you drew of me…” Bard didn’t know where he was going with that but he had to admit he was curious about why Thranduil would draw him of all things.

“What about it?”

“Why’d you draw me?”

“You caught my eye. I was inspired.”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever been inspired by this before.” He waved a hand up and down, gesturing to himself.

“Not that you know of.” Thranduil sipped his drink again until the mug was empty.

“You may very well be the first.”

“Well, you have good bone structure, a good face. I couldn’t help but draw you.”

“I’m no Mona Lisa.” Bard laughed.

“Ah, you’re better.” Thranduil smiled, cracking his fingers loudly.

“Ouch.” Bard raised his eyebrows in response to Thranduil’s finger cracking. “That’s gotta hurt.”

“Nah, it’s an awful habit though. I’m going to have severe arthritis one day.”

“Probably, if you keep that up.”

The sound of Thranduil’s mobile drew his attentive gaze away from Bard. He pulled the device from his coat pocket and made a face at the screen.

“Sorry, Bard. I’ve gotta answer this.” Thranduil excused himself from the table and answered his phone as he walked over near the washroom doors.

Bard looked away, wanting to give him his privacy, however he couldn’t help but notice the way Thranduil’s expression grew grim and his arms began moving with his forced speech. Thranduil paced around in small circles as his phone conversation continued, looking more and more flustered with whoever he was talking to. When he came back over to the table he didn’t sit down. He stood with his hands gripping the hem of his coat, looking far more rigid in posture than he had the entire evening. What could that have been about?

“Is everything okay?” Bard asked, looking up at him. Thranduil’s eyes didn’t meet his.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go.” Thranduil said, finally glancing down at Bard. He looked extremely tense and almost nervous. Bard understood; things came up that needed tending.

“It’s alright, I understand. I’m glad we got the chance to spend some time together.”

“Me too. I really enjoyed it. I hope we can do it again soon.” Thranduil appeared sincere, but Bard had never been very good at reading people.

Thranduil turned to leave, only to take a few steps back to the table. He leaned down and pressed an unexpected kiss on Bard’s cheek.

“I’ll text you later. Thanks for the macchiato.” He whispered before turning and walking quickly towards the exit.

It took Bard a few seconds to catch his breath. He sighed, wondering what could’ve possibly happened to steal Thranduil away from him so abruptly. He sat there, frozen, letting his mind go to the extremes. Had someone died? Did Thranduil not complete the commission to the buyers liking and was only being told about it now? Did he just ask a friend to call him so he could fake something to get out of the date?

Bard peered into his half empty mug of coffee. He pushed it away, unable to find it in himself to finish off the rest. It had gone cold anyway. Maybe Thranduil was just humoring him for the night. He probably wasn’t even interested in Bard. Would Thranduil even bother texting him later or was that just a lie?

Bard shook his head to divest himself of these disparaging thoughts; it wasn’t helpful to over think things.

He had lingered in the coffee shop long enough; it was time to go home now. Back to reality. He rubbed his cheek where Thranduil had kissed him, hoping to God that he wasn’t just being used.


	6. Friable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Thranduil. (yet again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey!
> 
> I will warn you all now that this chapter is pretty intense.   
> Trigger warnings: Violence and rape.
> 
> Another big thanks to EldritchMage for helping me get through this chapter and for letting me bounce around ideas and providing me with wonderful suggestions! <3

Friable (adj.) easily broken into pieces or reduced to nothing

* * *

 

The nighttime air was frigid, intensifying the ache in Thranduil’s chest. The cold breeze whipped through his hair and stung his exposed skin like a thousand relentless pin pricks. He shivered, jerking the car door open. The sound of the radio sent a shock through his entire body, so he fumbled for the controls, switching it off quickly. Thranduil cracked each finger before gripped the steering wheel. He didn’t bother to turn on the heat; the fury inside him was enough to keep him warm.

He tried to calm himself by taking steady breaths but driving in a bad mood only made his nerves act up more. The same thoughts kept running rampant in his head. What would Galion do when he arrived home? Would he react in the same way he did the last time he was pissed off? Would Thranduil actually fight back this time since Legolas wasn’t at home, or would he be forced into submission yet again?

Thranduil truly wanted to take a stand, stop Galion from controlling him, but he did not know how to do so without some form of repercussion. Was there something he could do that would inevitably bother Galion enough that he would leave on his own accord, or would Thranduil be forced to wear these chains the rest of his life?

Being with Bard that night had proved to Thranduil that he could live a normal life. If he wasn’t always weighed down by Galion he may be able to have a healthy relationship. Bard showed him that this was possible and not just an unattainable notion. If only he could strike up the courage to escape from Galion’s control…

The drive home was clouded over in a dense haze. The swarming thoughts, Thranduil’s warm breath creating billowing whorls of fog around him - it was enough to send him into a full blown panic. But before he knew it the house was in view and he was pulling into the driveway. Only now did he wish the drive had taken longer.

He began unbuttoning his coat as he slid out of the car and walked across the driveway to the front entrance. Seeing the lights on in the living room made his heart hammer beneath his chest like a caged animal trying to break free. But once he entered the house, it was he who would become that caged animal.

Thranduil unlocked the door, tiptoeing quietly inside. He would be lucky if he could avoid Galion’s wrath, but tonight that would be impossible. Not when Galion had beckoned him home with such pure rage.

His coat came off as soon as he stepped inside, flung onto the floor and forgotten as he stepped out of his boots. Rustling from the kitchen drew his attention and he knew he would have to make his escape with haste. The sound of muffled cursing was enough to send him hurtling towards the basement door, gripping the handle and swinging it open as he retreated down the stairs.

He wanted to paint. He wanted to get away from his own reality.

“Thranduil!” Galion bellowed from the top of the stairs.

Footsteps.

Loud angry footsteps.

Coming down the stairs. Straight for him.

“Don’t you fucking ignore me!” Galion was right behind him, he could feel it.

“What?” Thranduil spun around.

“Don’t you dare try to avoid me.” Galion snarled.

Thranduil swallowed the fury, his body growing stiff like a marble statue. His expression went blank.

“I’m not avoiding you. I was just going to get some work done.”

“Fucking lies! Always lies with you!”

“It is not a lie. Do you not want me to paint? To make money?” _To make money for your sorry ass_ , he almost said. He bit down hard on his tongue, savoring the pain.

“You’re not going to paint, you’re going to sulk. I know you.” Galion retorted.

Thranduil hadn’t noticed before, too blind with his own rage to see that Galion was clutching a bottle of wine in one hand – _his_ wine. The wine that had been bottled on the day he married his wife. That bottle was never to be opened. And here Galion stood, grasping the half empty bottle, staring at Thranduil as if he were the one who had done something worthy of punishment.

“What the fuck! Why are you drinking that?” The fury took over. Thranduil took two steps forward, reaching for the wine bottle, only for Galion to step back and laugh. “That’s mine!”

“What’s yours is mine.” Galion chortled, bypassing another of Thranduil’s swipes.

“You can’t be serious! You knew I never wanted that bottle to be opened!”

“You can’t keep clinging to the past.”

“I’ll cling if I want to!”

“You’re pathetic, Thranduil.”

“No. You are pathetic.” Thranduil yelled, unable to contain his emotions for another second. “You, who sits around all day, doing absolutely nothing. You, who spends all my money because you refuse to work for a living. You –”

A harsh slap cut Thranduil off mid sentence. His hand instinctually flew up to his face, clasping at his red-hot cheek. Before he knew it Galion had shoved him backwards, his shoulders slamming into the wall with a thud. His arms had flung out to catch himself, but instead he only managed to knock a half finished canvas off the easel.

“Fuck off!” Thranduil hollered, balling his fists tightly.

Galion had retreated for a moment, sitting the wine bottle onto the table in the corner of the room. The sound of his footfalls as he approached were deafening, echoing loudly against the wooden floor.

He came at Thranduil with full strength, grabbing his arms and pushing him back into the easel. The sharp edges sticking painfully into Thranduil’s back as he struggled to shove Galion off.

“Don’t struggle, you fucking whore. Just stop moving!” Galion shouted, his grip on Thranduil’s arms growing stronger.

“Get the fuck off me!” Thranduil growled. It was as if he and Galion were engaged in some sort of vicious dance. Stepping to the beat of their anger, arms swinging furiously around them.

Galion had thrown Thranduil’s arm into the wall, eliciting a yelp from Thranduil’s mouth. He stopped struggling for a moment, grasping at his wrist. That would definitely leave a nasty bruise.

Galion laughed.

Thranduil put himself in a vulnerable position, reaching down for the painting that had fallen onto the ground. His vision grayed as he bent over and in a split second Galion’s foot had made contact with the canvas, kicking it from Thranduil’s outstretched hand.

“What are you doing?!”

Galion snatched the canvas in both hands, pulling it away from Thranduil, taunting him. He laughed again. Thranduil didn’t see it coming when Galion had jerked up his knee, snapping the canvas in half.

“What the fuck!” Thranduil wailed, tossing himself at Galion with all his force, their bodies slamming together. The destroyed painting was hurled across the room and both of them went crashing to the floor.

Thranduil tried to get a solid grip on Galion’s arms, bringing them down into contact with the floor beneath them. Galion groaned and kicked Thranduil off of him, standing up before Thranduil could register that he had moved. Galion’s hand took hold of Thranduil’s hair, winding around it as if it were nothing more than a leash. A sharp cry rose from Thranduil’s throat as his hair was pulled until his arms gave out.

He was being dragged. Dragged around the room like a disobedient animal.

“Ow. Galion, stop. Let go.” Thranduil whimpered. He had lost his voice, the words barely coming out. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“You want to know why?!” Galion wailed. He released his vice-like grip and Thranduil sunk to the ground, both hands clutching at his head. “Look at me!”

Thranduil looked up, only to have strands of his own hair tossed in his face. He winced; afraid he was going to be struck yet again. “Why would you destroy my painting?”

“Painting? That’s not a painting. A child could do that! It’s a mess of colour. It’s nothing!” Galion laughed.

“It’s abstract.” Was all Thranduil could manage to say.

“Abstract my ass! It’s stupid.” Galion was hovering over him but then he crouched down to Thranduil’s level, hand taking hold of his chin, holding his face firmly in place. “I don’t understand why you’re painting that shit when you could be painting something that will actually sell! Make some fucking money!”

Thranduil flinched when Galion’s fingers dug into his jaw. He twisted his head from side to side, trying to escape but Galion was relentless. He would not let go. “You’re hurting me.”

“You’re hurting yourself.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Maybe if you stopped struggling it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Why are you like this?”

“Because when you paint shit like that,” he pointed in the direction of the broken canvas, “you’re wasting your talent. Paint something that will make us some money! For fuck’s sake!”

“And what if I don’t?”

“If you don’t bust your ass like you should, then I have a better use for it.” Galion spat, pulling Thranduil’s face closer to his.

“Better use for what?” Thranduil grimaced as the pressure on his jaw increased.

“For you. I could easily pimp you out. Six times a night. I know guys who’d be willing to pay a fortune to fuck a pretty little whore like you.” With that Galion released his grip, pushing Thranduil backward.

Thranduil held back his urge to spit in Galion’s face. But Galion stood up, leaving Thranduil helpless on the ground. But his feeling of helplessness quickly transformed to uninhibited anger and he stood up, no longer holding back the words that swirled around in his head.

“You’d fucking like that wouldn’t you? Using me in whatever way you can, just to make money off of me. You’re fucking sick!”

“You’re sick, Thranduil. Going out without permission, so you can do what? Fuck everyone you meet?”

“You actually think that’s what I was doing? Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re desperate for attention, just like every other artist on this planet!”

“I am not desperate for attention!”

“Another fucking lie.” Galion snorted, pacing around, circling Thranduil as if he were a hunter and Thranduil his prey. “You love attention. I know what else you’d love – if I called Feren to come over so we could both fuck you at the same time. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

A sound of utter repulsion came from Thranduil’s throat and he scoffed loudly, shaking his body as if the simple action would free him of the foul image Galion had put in his head.

Galion chuckled and made a move to touch Thranduil’s face. But Thranduil’s reflexes kicked in and slapped Galion’s hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me! I’m not a toy. I am not your personal plaything that you can use for your own amusement.”

“You are _mine_. And I can touch you however I see fit.”

Thranduil let out a huff of frustration. There was no getting through to a drunken fool like Galion.

“Why don’t you just go upstairs? Leave me alone and I’ll work on something that will sell. I’ll make you some fucking money and then you can take it and get the fuck out of my life!”

“I’ll take more than your money."

“What do you want from me?!” Thranduil cried, throwing his hands up.

“I want to fuck you. I want you to cry and beg and scream.” Galion laughed, a devilish grin contorting his features.

“And what if I don’t want that?”

“Then I’ll take it.”

“Just like you take everything else from me?” Thranduil snapped, stepping forward into Galion’s personal space, their faces now mere inches apart.

“What more are you good for? All you are is a good fuck. That’s it. And I’m sure half the town knows just how good you are.”

“You’re delusional!” Thranduil struck Galion’s chest with a fist. He could see the expression in Galion’s eyes shift immediately. He backed away.

Galion grabbed hold of Thranduil’s cardigan, wrenching it as Thranduil made to move away, the fabric ripping with the force, until it was pulled off of one arm. Thranduil spun around, yanking his arm from the sleeve until he was free of its confinement. Galion threw it onto the ground and hurtled himself at Thranduil, trapping him between his body and the wall. Thranduil tried to back up, to push Galion away but it was a failed effort. Galion grabbed both of his arms pinning them above his head as he ground his hips into Thranduil’s ass.

“Fucking stop!” Thranduil yelled through gritted teeth.

“No such luck. You need to be taught a lesson.” Galion held Thranduil’s wrists together with one hand and used the other to reach around and tug at the button of Thranduil’s jeans.

“Fuck off!” Thranduil squirmed, trying to make it harder for Galion to undo his pants.

Galion didn’t stop; he yanked harder until the button popped off and went flying. In an instant Thranduil’s zipper was torn open and Galion pushed his pants and underwear down around his knees. The sound of Galion’s heavy breathing and staccato-like snickering was all Thranduil could hear. It was burning into his soul, embedding itself into every cell of his body.

Without warning, Galion stuck two fingers in Thranduil’s mouth, pushing them in and out. Thranduil moaned and forced himself not to bite down, despite wanting to tear the fingers from Galion’s hand.

“Suck.” Galion ordered, laughing.

Thranduil did as he was told, knowing exactly what his spit would be used for. His mouth had gone dry, but the force of Galion’s fingers against the back of his throat caused him to gag until saliva dripped down to his chin.

Galion quickly pulled his fingers from Thranduil’s mouth, biting onto his neck as he shoved those wet fingers exactly where Thranduil didn’t want them. A guttural sound tore its way from Thranduil’s throat. It was too much too soon and he found himself clenching at the intrusion. Galion maneuvered his fingers roughly, thrusting too quickly for Thranduil to have time to get used to the sensation.

Suddenly, Galion pulled his fingers back. Thranduil winced as he felt the tip of Galion’s cock beginning to breach him. He wanted to cry out, to push the bastard off of him and punch him in the face repeatedly, but he did none of those things.

 Thranduil stopped struggling; he silently accepted his fate. It would only make everything worse if he continued to put up a fight, so he let his body go limp.

One hand gripped Thranduil’s waist, hauling him backwards as Galion drove his length deep inside, hips slamming hard into Thranduil’s ass. Thranduil bit his bottom lip when Galion pulled back out, a muffled whimper echoing from his mouth.

“Fuck. You’re so tight. Such a perfect whore.” Galion groaned breathily. The raspiness of his voice made Thranduil’s stomach churn. He didn’t want to hear these utterances. He just wanted silence.

“Just…please. G-go slow. It fucking hurts.” Thranduil stuttered when Galion pushed his cock back inside.

Galion chuckled and the bucking of his hips sped up. Each thrust pushed Thranduil’s body closer to the wall, his cheek now plastered against it as Galion continued holding his wrists firmly. He could no longer feel his arms, only a slight prickle causing him to shudder.

It seemed Galion couldn’t bear to hold his hand above his head any longer, his grip on Thranduil’s wrists had finally ceased. Thranduil’s arms dropped to his sides and he tried to shake them out to regain sensation, but his body jolted when a fierce slap landed on his ass and teeth latched onto his neck.

Thranduil groaned loudly when Galion bit down harder and began sucking at his skin.

“Mmm, yes. Moan for me. You know you love it.” Galion crooned. His hips picked up their pace, pounding into Thranduil with abandon. Both hands snuck around Thranduil’s chest clutching him tightly so that their bodies would remain perfectly slotted together.

Thranduil tried to block it all out. He focused on the steady pounding of his heartbeat. The sound almost rhythmical, lulling him into his own soothing entrancement. His short, shallow gasps combined with the sound of his heart created a peaceful melody; it was the only thing managing to keep him sane.

The deep thrusts quickly gave way to short stammering motions, indicating that this agony would soon reach its end.

“Fuck, yes. I’m gonna come in this tight ass of yours.” Galion breathed, licking and sucking at Thranduil’s neck. “Beg for it.”

Thranduil did not want to beg for anything but he was not given a chance to protest.

“Beg me to come inside you. Now. Beg me!” Galion growled, fingers digging deep into Thranduil’s sides.

“P-please.” Thranduil attempted.

“No! Do better. I know you want to be filled. Tell me how much you love my cock.” Galion’s voice was muffled, his face buried in the crook of Thranduil’s neck as he worked to prolong his orgasm.

“Please. You’re so big. Just – please, come inside me.” Thranduil forced the words out as if they were poison on his tongue.

Those words, spoken seductively was all it took to push Galion over the edge, his hips stuttering, his hands grasping at Thranduil’s waist, until finally… it all stopped. Thranduil gritted his teeth when he felt the warmth of Galion’s release inside himself. Utter desecration.

Galion released his hold, hands finally moving away as he pulled himself from Thranduil’s body.

Filth.

Thranduil felt dirty, used.

The sound of Galion’s zipper shocked him back into reality. Yet he did not move once Galion had walked away. He stood there, frozen, clutching the wall for stability. Thranduil let out a moan of disgust when he felt warm liquid dripping down the inside of his thighs and he badly wanted to wash away his humiliation.

His eyes closed and he sunk to the ground, not caring about the state he was in, pants down around his ankles, his shirt yanked up over his shoulders. No, he didn’t care. He just wanted to sink into the earth and disappear.

The sound of footsteps approaching drew his eyelids open, but still he did not budge.

“You got what you wanted, so leave me be.” Thranduil mumbled.

Cold liquid dripped onto his head and when he made to move, his face was smashed into the wall causing a sharp cry to erupt from his throat. The pouring of liquid continued along with Galion’s malicious laughter.

“You want your precious wine?” Galion chortled. “Then here, have it.”

Finally it registered. Galion was pouring the wine in his hair. He could feel it trickling down the back of his neck.

And finally there was no more wine left to shame him, so Galion let go of his head.

The sound of glass shattering shook his entire body and he turned around on instinct, eyes locking with Galion’s when he looked up.

“See what you made me do?” Galion said. Thranduil let his gaze scan the floor; there were shards of glass scattered everywhere. “I’m going out now. I have things to do so I won’t be home tonight. You better clean this up.”

Galion strode away, heading for the stairs, avoiding the broken pieces of the wine bottle on his way. Thranduil didn’t speak, his tongue felt like a giant cotton ball in his mouth. So he waited.

Why was Galion taking so long? Just leave. Thranduil cursed under his breath, arms embracing himself as he rocked back and forth on the floor. One hand reached up and rubbed tenderly at his cheekbone, a bruise forming where Galion had shoved his face into the wall. He eyed the bent and broken canvas on the floor – the abstract he was working on when he had texted Bard that first time. He figured he may be able to salvage the canvas; it was only warped a little, the majority of the damage being done to the wooden backing. A voice in his head urged him to slash the canvas with a piece of broken glass, but his body refused to move until he was certain Galion was gone. What a fucking wasted effort. He had spent days on that painting, finally getting it to look like the vision he had in his mind, and now, now it was destroyed. How could someone who claimed to love him have the heart to despoil something so personal to him? Galion had attacked his art, his body, his worth as a human being. What kind of a person did that? Thranduil choked back a sob; no, he would not cry.

Thranduil’s eyes transfixed upon the shards of glass. Fuck. Of all the wine for Galion to drink and then humiliate him with! Why did it have to be that bottle? There was a whole cellar with a variety of expensive wines for that asshole to choose from, but no, instead he chose to consume the memories of Thranduil’s wedding.

When he finally heard the front door slam shut, he unwrapped his arms from around his body and stood up slowly. He hauled up his pants and tiptoed around the glass, ignoring the wetness that dripped from the strands of his hair. He’d have to deal with the mess in his studio later. Right now, he wanted to wash away his revulsion. So he made his way up to his bedroom.

He cranked the faucet in the large Jacuzzi tub to hot, hoping that a soak in the heat would miraculously burn away the images that were now ingrained into his head. Yes, the wine would wash out of his hair, the stickiness would disappear from the insides of his thighs, but no amount of scalding water could clear away the utter feeling of disgust lingering within his very being. As the water was running, Thranduil stepped out of his clothes robotically, his eyes unable to focus on any one thing for more than a few seconds. He balled up his clothing and tossed it in the direction of the hamper, missing his shot completely. His hand kept going back to the soreness on his face, massaging it gently until he finally caught sight of himself in the mirror.

God, Galion had turned Thranduil into the whore he would so proudly pimp. His face was beginning to swell on the left side beneath his eye, sections of his hair had turned an awful shade pink from the wine, and bite marks and bruises were littered along the length of his neck. What a pathetic sight he was. He made a face at his reflection and a singular word played over and over in his head. _Whore, whore, whore_.

Once the bathtub was full, Thranduil stepped in, savoring the way his skin prickled from the heat. It was so hot it almost felt cold. A shiver ran up his spine and he sunk down into the water, tendrils of hair dancing about as he leaned back deeper. He let his head fall backwards, the water now up to his chin as his hair floated elegantly, wrapping around his neck like a scarf. The water had turned a faint pink colour from the wine. He let himself sink lower until his head was completely submerged. He screamed. Bubbles rushed up to the surface as he let out another soundless cry. His eyes stung as he brought his head back up and out of the water. He longed for peace, for a dreamless sleep at the depths of the ocean, where nothing or no one could ever touch him.

_Whore, whore, whore._

He pulled the plug, letting the pink liquid swirl down the drain as he stepped out of the tub gingerly and proceeded to enter the shower. He lathered his hair, scrubbing until the wine had fully washed out. Next, he washed his body, not being as gentle as he had been with his hair. He scratched and clawed at his skin until it began to burn.  After he finished drying off, he padded back into the bedroom, ignoring his reflection in the floor-length mirror. Leggings, a ratty t-shirt and a fuzzy bath robe were all thrown on carelessly. He slipped on a pair of slippers and headed down stairs.

The last thing he wanted to do right now was go back into the studio, but the mess would not clean itself. Thranduil inhaled sharply, cracking open the cupboard door where he kept the medication. Advil, Tylenol, vitamins, biotin, and finally….the sleeping pills. He hadn’t taken any in a very long time. His doctor had prescribed them after his wife died and he suffered terrible insomnia. He was thankful he hadn’t disposed of them. It was an impulsive act to pour out all the pills into the palm of his hand. There were about 20 tablets left; he entertained the notion for a split second. _Just take them all._

He shook away that thought, dumping all but two of the pills back into the container. He didn’t want to kill himself; he could never do that to Legolas. He would never leave his son alone. But if he didn’t have a child…maybe the decision would be different. He didn’t want to think about it.

Thranduil swallowed the pills, grabbed paper towel, all-purpose cleaner, a broom and the dustpan and slowly crept down the basement stairs.

He blinked a few times; it looked like a crime scene – glass everywhere, wine spilt all over the floor, paint tubes and brushes scattered about, the canvases that had once been propped against the wall had fallen over like dominoes, and Thranduil’s abstract painting was broken in the corner of the room.

He groaned and reluctantly began sweeping the shards of glass into the dustpan.

Fucking Galion. What a disgusting creature. Why couldn’t Thranduil have grabbed a piece of glass and slit that motherfucker’s throat? Why couldn’t he have done something, anything? Instead, like usual, he just submit and let Galion do whatever he wanted. He knew he needed to make it stop; he couldn’t let someone abuse him like this. He was being pushed well beyond his limit, but how was he supposed to tell someone like Galion to stop and actually have him listen? Galion would never listen. Thranduil’s feelings weren’t valid, they were nothing. Why couldn’t he bring himself to break up with that fucking bastard? Why couldn’t he tell him to fuck off for good? Even if he did, would Galion actually leave, or would he stalk Thranduil for the rest of his life?

_You are weak. You deserve this kind of treatment. Stand up for yourself before he hurts your son. What the fuck is wrong with you?_

Thranduil gritted his teeth as he wiped up the now sticky wine from the floor. It most certainly didn’t remind him of blood. Wine. His wedding wine. That’s all it was.

His mind kept presenting one word to him, a horrible word, a word that he would continue rejecting and pushing far from his stream of thought. Yet, no matter how he distracted himself, there it was. That fucking word. _Rape._

_No, no, no._ That’s not what it was. It wasn’t rape. Rape was much more serious than this. Thranduil could’ve stopped Galion if he really wanted to. But he didn’t. So it couldn’t be rape. Could it?

The walls were wiped down, the canvases and art supplies put back into order and the floor had been swept up and scrubbed.

When everything was clean, he grabbed the warped canvas, trying to bend it back into shape as best as he could. He placed it on the easel, squirted out some red and black paint and proceeded to desecrate the canvas until he was satisfied. When his urge to destroy was finally suppressed, he sat back on his stool, examining his wrists. Ah, the bruises weren’t really that bad. It was November, so he would be able to wear long sleeves. Observing his wrists sent a pang of shame through his body; he let Galion do this to him.

He growled through his teeth, the sound deep and aggrieved. Pulling open the small drawer on his easel, he fished around amongst papers and pencils until he found an old stale cigarette. He remembered putting it there. For emergencies.

Right now was an emergency. He flew up the stairs, found a lighter in the kitchen and went out into the backyard, cigarette held tightly between his fingers. His palms started sweating when he attempted to light it, unable to do so on the first try. Fucking lighter. He was holding the cigarette between his lips, one hand cupped around it and the other holding the lighter, his thumb flicking it repeatedly. His hands shook as the flame finally caught onto the end of the cigarette, smoke swirling around his face, stinging his eyes.

He hadn’t smoked in years. But once he took the first drag, it all came back to him. He slumped down into a crouching position, his back resting against the brick. His legs were growing heavier by the second and they refused to hold up his body. The sleeping pills must be kicking in because he could barely formulate a coherent thought as his eyes fixated onto a dark spot in the grass. What was that? A carcass of an animal? A pile of leaves? A pool of blood? Before Thranduil knew it, the cigarette was down to just the filter, burning his fingers when he tried to inhale one last time. He put it out and dropped the cigarette butt down between a crack in the stone steps.

There was no reason to be awake, so Thranduil let his body glide up the stairs to his bedroom. He locked the door, turned off the light, complete darkness surrounding him. Heavy legs carried him over to the side of the bed and somehow the darkness only worked to intensify his emotions. They bubbled to the surface, attacking him like a rabid animal, causing him to buckle over beside the bed, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. He rocked back and forth in quick motions, soothing himself, whispering reassuring words aloud, and in that moment, he let it out. He let himself cry. His body tensed and his eyes burned, the tears breaking like a dam over his cheeks. There was no holding back now; he had broken, so he let himself feel it while he had the chance. Tomorrow he would need to be strong, but now, all alone, he could cry. The crying turned to sobs and the sobs turned to heaving.

When there were no more tears left to cry, Thranduil grasped at the bed sheets, pulling himself up and crawling under the covers. His body was weary; he didn’t have the strength to take off his robe or slippers. His body wracked out a final sob, and he let the sleeping pills work their magic. He was out within seconds.

\--

Thranduil awoke to the sound of pounding on the door.

“What the hell?” he mumbled, rubbing his face and wincing when he accidently brushed his fingers over his swollen cheekbone. He glanced at the clock. 6:53 a.m.

“Thran?” He heard from the other side of the door. His body tensed at the sound of that voice. Galion.

Stay in bed and ignore him, or get up and unlock the bedroom door? It was a tough call.

“Baby, open the door.” Galion said, voice sounding very uncharacteristic. “Please.”

Thranduil sighed, closing his eyes. “Fuck.” He grumbled under his breath.

“I’m sorry, love. Please let me in.” Galion knocked on the door three more times.

“Okay, okay.” Thranduil called out. He threw the covers off, stepped out of bed and went to unlock the door.

He opened it just a crack, peering around slowly until he saw Galion standing there with a sheepish look upon his face, his eyebrows knit together.

“What do you want?” Thranduil asked, agitation coating his words.

“Oh.” Galion gasped, nudging the door open and reaching out for Thranduil’s face. Thranduil reflexively back away, turning his head so that his hair would fall over his shoulder and cover the injured side of his face.

“Babe.” Galion tried again, now brushing his fingers through Thranduil’s hair, pushing it back so he could gently caress his swollen cheek. Galion shook his head, his face twisting into an expression of pain.

Thranduil froze, shrinking into himself, feeling smaller than was possible for someone of his stature. He was being thoroughly inspected like a specimen under a microscope.

“Please, don’t.” Thranduil muttered, stalking back to the bed and plopping himself down. He felt Galion’s weight sink into the mattress beside him and sighed. He tried to crawl under the covers but arms wound around his waist tentatively and he felt the press of Galion’s chin on his shoulder. Galion buried his face into Thranduil’s hair, hot breath creeping over his skin as small kisses were littered along the column of his neck.

Thranduil flinched, but didn’t pull away. Not again, he thought, gritting his teeth. What did he have to do for Galion to be satisfied?

“Baby, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Galion cooed into his ear.

“I…don’t…” Thranduil breathed, unable to finish that sentence.

“I know I was out of line. I know I hurt you…but you just made me so angry. I didn’t mean to--”

“I know.”

“I love you so much. You’re everything to me. You’re perfect. I don’t know what I would do without you, Thran.”

_You’d be homeless_ , Thranduil wanted to say, but instead he said nothing, only hummed.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe what I did to your pretty face.” Galion reached around, hooking two fingers beneath Thranduil’s jaw, gently pulling his face to the side. Thranduil closed his eyes so he didn’t have to face Galion’s intrusive gaze. Galion sighed and rubbed a thumb over the redness on Thranduil’s cheek, making a face when he saw how Thranduil winced in response to the touch. “You shouldn’t have made me so angry, baby. Look at what you made me do.” He kissed Thranduil’s eyelid.

“You mean what you did.” Thranduil whispered, immediately regretting the words, fearing the anger that may erupt from Galion without warning.

“You pissed me off. I couldn’t control myself. I’m sorry, love.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you, Thran, so much.” He repositioned himself of the bed so he was directly in front of Thranduil and then reached out to cup his face. Galion pressed his lips against Thranduil’s, kissing him gingerly.

Thranduil didn’t kiss back, he just sat there, body unmoving, fingers entwined in the sheets for support.

_Just don’t make any sudden moves,_ he told himself.

Galion’s unwanted kisses trailed to the corner of Thranduil’s lips, moving down his chin until he reached the hollow of his neck. When Galion started peppering kisses along his clavicle, Thranduil jerked back, coming to rest upon his elbows as Galion hovered above him, his kisses still attacking Thranduil’s neck.

“Gal, I’m not in the mood for this.” Thranduil said weakly, trying to weasel his way out from beneath the weight of Galion’s questioning stare.

“Sorry, babe. I know you don’t trust me and I don’t blame you, but I’m going to change. I swear.”

“Right.” Thranduil murmured, sliding off the bed, making his way towards the walk-in closet. He had suddenly become uncomfortably hot; he needed to take off his robe.

Galion followed close behind, still going on about how he planned on changing.

“…and I’ll start going to anger management, so I don’t lose it anymore. Oh, I’ve got a surprise for you, baby.” He grinned, standing next to Thranduil as his robe was tossed to the floor.

“I don’t like surprises.” Thranduil said, searching through his clothes for something suitable to change into. To be honest, he was happy wearing what he already had on; he was merely keeping himself busy while Galion spoke to him. He needed to be doing something other than just sitting there while he was being talked at. So he rummaged until he found a nice wool sweater and a pair of fleece leggings.

Galion made a noise, touching Thranduil’s arm as his eyes fixated on his wrists.

“Oh my poor darling.” His voice grew soft, pulling Thranduil’s arm closer so he could kiss his bruised wrist. “What have I done?”

Ah, a rhetorical question that Thranduil had to bite his tongue not to answer. Galion wouldn’t be pleased with what Thranduil wanted to say in response that that question, rhetorical or not.

Pulling his arm away and sidestepping Galion, Thranduil went to toss his clothes on the end of the bed.

“So, baby, the surprise. I’ve gotta go out for a bit but I’ll be back soon.” Galion said, but when Thranduil didn’t reply, he continued. “Please don’t lock yourself away in here all day. Get some tea, make yourself some breakfast.”

“Okay.” Thranduil answered, voice monotone.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“And I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

“Yeah. But I still don’t like surprises.”

“You’ll like this. I’ll be back shortly, my love.”

“Legolas might be back when you return, so please do your best to be nice.” Thranduil warned, straightening out the covers as he finished making the bed.

“I promise.” Galion smiled, but Thranduil knew it was an empty smile. It held no warmth, no mirth, only lies and deceit.

When Galion left, Thranduil exhaled a breath of relief. It was hard to believe the words that came from that assholes mouth. How could any of that be true after what he had done to Thranduil? If it was an attempt to win Thranduil back it was not going to work; Thranduil would not be swayed that easily. He hated Galion, no, he _loathed_ him. But for now, Thranduil was just going to pretend. Go along with it until he found the courage to do something more.

An idea presented itself; an idea that Thranduil could not ignore. Change the locks when Galion leaves for the night. Pack up his stuff and when he returns tell him that it’s over. Get out and stay out. Never come back. It was easy to think those thoughts, but actually putting them into action was another matter entirely.

Thranduil busied himself around the house. He cleaned up the kitchen, the living room and scrubbed the hardwood floor in his studio again. He enjoyed cleaning; it was something he could control, something that could produce quick results. It was satisfying.

At around ten o’clock the front door unlocked and the door creaked open. Thranduil had been dozing off on the couch, but roused instantly when he saw his son peering around the corner at him with big eyes.

“Ada, are we alone?” Legolas asked.

“Hello, my sweet boy.” Thranduil greeted. “Yes, we are alone.”

“Good.” Legolas had taken his jacket off and left it draped on the back of the rocking chair in the corner of the room. He walked over to the couch, pulling off his green scarf and sat beside Thranduil, eyes squinting.

“What?” Thranduil questioned. But suddenly he remembered. His face. Legolas was surely going to wonder what had happened. He quickly ran through a list of lies he had compounded earlier and chose the most fitting one. It wasn’t a good lie, but it would have to do.

“What happened to you?” Legolas’s eyes darted about, pausing on Thranduil’s face, then his neck and then overlooking his arms before his gaze wandered back to his father’s eyes.

Thranduil sighed. “Ah, I was just clumsy. Drank too much wine and ended up missing the last few steps. Fell on my face.” He winced internally, trying not to let on how absurd his own explanation sounded as he said it aloud.

“Okay…” Legolas replied, not at all sounding convinced.

“It’s fine, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

“Ada…”

“Yes?”

“Tell me the truth.”

“I just did.” Thranduil said, annoyed with his own curt tone. He didn’t want to get angry with Legolas, but how was he supposed to tell his son that Galion did this to him?

“Ada, please.” Legolas reached out and laid a hand upon Thranduil’s knee, staring at him with pleading eyes. “Just tell me. Did _he_ do this?”

A lump formed in Thranduil’s throat. His son had always been perceptive, always able to read between the lines. He didn’t want Legolas to worry about him, or about his own safety. Thranduil was going to handle this once and for all. He would change the locks.

“No, baby. He didn’t.” Thranduil lost his voice and the words were barely a whisper. He swallowed hard, looking into his son’s blue eyes as he ran his fingers through Legolas’s hair. “Ada is just clumsy, that’s all.”

Legolas sniffed, sliding closer to Thranduil so he could curl into his father’s side. Thranduil embraced him gently, rubbing gentle circles onto his back. “Don’t worry, my darling. It’s okay.”

“Ada…he scares me.” Legolas said, voice thick with hesitation. “And…I-I think…” he trailed off, nudging his chin into Thranduil’s ribs.

“You think what?”

“I think maybe…he scares you, too.”

Thranduil wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find the words, he merely hummed, clutching his son closer and pressing kisses upon his head.

“I don’t want him here anymore, Ada. He’s bad. He’s hurting you. And…and…he’s scary. We need to make him go away.”

Thranduil felt Legolas shudder, his little fists balled tightly onto Thranduil’s sweater.

“I know, sweetheart. I know. I’ll make him go away. I promise. Everything will be alright.” Thranduil whispered soothingly. He had to change the locks. His son was scared, unhappy, worried… This was no way for Legolas to live, so Thranduil would do everything in his power to make things better, to be rid of Galion once and for all.

“I’m sorry, Ada.” Legolas mumbled.

“Never be sorry, Legolas. It’s important for you to always tell me how you feel. You are the most important thing to me.” Thranduil kissed his head, and gave him a final squeeze before Legolas pulled away. A frown was etched upon his face and it made Thranduil’s heart ache.

“I love you, Ada.” He leaned up and pressed a light kiss overtop of Thranduil’s injured cheek, running his small fingers through the strands of Thranduil’s hair before he slid off the couch.

“I love you, too. Always and forever.” Thranduil released his hold on Legolas’ shoulder and the boy grabbed his scarf and headed out of the room. “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go play.”

“Okay, have fun. And I promise that he’ll be out of our lives soon.”

“Is he coming back today?” Legolas stopped, turning around to look at his father. “I don’t want to see him.”

“He will come back but I’ll get rid of him. Just stay in your room when he gets back if you feel scared. I’ll make sure he leaves.” Thranduil told him, although he still didn’t know just how he would manage to get rid of Galion. He would have to come up with something.

 

Thranduil heard a car pulling into the driveway and he knew it had to be Galion. He looked out the windows to have his suspicions confirmed and then rushed to the foot of the stairs, yelling out to Legolas.

“Legolas! He’s back, stay in your room.”

Legolas called out his acknowledgement and Thranduil hurried back into the living room to sit on the couch. He grabbed the remote so he could flip through the channels, making it seem as if he were doing something.

The door burst open, letting in the sound of Galion’s grumbling. It sounded like he was struggling with something. God, Thranduil was worried what this surprise might be. His life had enough surprises, he didn’t need any more.

“Thran!” Galion shouted into the living room. “I’m back with your surprise.”

“Great.” Thranduil mumbled under his breath, reluctant to leave the safety of the couch.

Galion appeared around the corner with a large bag in his hand. He had a grin on his face as he walked over towards Thranduil, holding the bag out to him. Did he expect Thranduil to be excited?

“What is this?” Thranduil asked, feigning interest.

“I got a present for you. As an apology for what I did last night.”

Thranduil took the bag and sat it on his lap. He opened it slowly, gazing inside. An array of paints, brushes and other art tools were inside the bag, and as much as Thranduil wanted to be excited about this, he just felt sick.

Before Thranduil could form any words, Galion spoke. “I also got you some new canvases, here let me get them.” He walked quickly to the foyer and returned towing four large canvases.

“Thanks.” Was all Thranduil could say, although he did not feel thankfully at all. He had to go through hell in order to receive such gifts, and that thought sent a spasm of revulsion throughout his body. What was Galion attempting to do here? Did he even know what kind of paints Thranduil used, what supplies he generally worked with, or was he just looking for a way to placate him?

“And another thing…” Galion began. “I’ve got a job offer lined up, something big, and I need to go out of town for a while.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I actually already got the plane tickets.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I know it’s hard to believe but I’m not only with you for your money. I do love you. And I want to prove that to you.”

“What kind of job?” Thranduil asked.

“It’s a surprise, babe. You’ll see.”

“Okay…”

Thranduil couldn’t help but believe that this was all bullshit. Galion was sneaky and cunning, leaving Thranduil wondering what he was really up to. A small glint of hope presented itself, though; Galion would be leaving.

“How long are you going to be gone for?” Thranduil inquired, fighting a smile.

“A week. Flight’s tomorrow, and I’ll be back next Sunday evening.”

“Okay.”

“And since I know you need your space right now, I’m going to spend the night at Feren’s.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll go pack now.”

“Okay.” Thranduil said, his tone much lighter all of a sudden as he got up from the couch. Galion would soon be gone. “Do you need help packing?”

“No, baby, I’ll be fine. You just sit here and relax.”

When Galion had finally left with his suitcase, Thranduil heaved out a sigh of relief.

The first thing he did was go up to Legolas’s bedroom and inform his son that Galion was indeed gone. Upon hearing this news, the little boy’s face lit up. Thranduil was just as pleased. The entire atmosphere in the house had shifted and the two of them were able to walk about freely without fear, as if a spell had magically been lifted.

In the calm silence of the night, Thranduil mulled over his plans to change the locks and pack up Galion’s things. This he would do in the coming week. He would waste no time, not after all that had happened. He wanted to live his life without some rapist dictating his every move; he longed for true happiness, contentment, something he was hopeful he would find once he was no longer being controlled and manipulated.

As Thranduil drifted off to sleep, muddled thoughts entered his mind; mostly, thoughts of Bard, how his hair fell into his eyes, how his voice roused a deep desire within Thranduil’s soul, how he chuckled coyly when Thranduil had flirted with him…

In his sleep-induced state Thranduil had made a decision. In the morning, he would contact Bard. He would grant himself this pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoy speculations, so please tell me what you think is going to happen! :)


	7. Metanoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important documents, cheeky texts and an unexpected guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> Sorry this took so long. My work schedule was messed up this week so I didn't have as much time to write. I'm also worried that a lot of this is repetitive. I originally thought this chapter was going to be short, but it ended up at 9.6k. Oops. 
> 
> And of course, thank you again to EldritchMage who helped me with so many parts of this chapter. <3

Metanoia (n.) the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self or way of life

* * *

 

 

Bard was relieved that it was finally the end of the week. Tomorrow, he would be able to ignore his alarm and let himself catch up on some much needed rest. The first week alone with the children had been hectic, but nothing that he could not manage on his own. Every day Bard grew more and more comfortable waking up earlier, getting the children’s lunches packed, picking up Tilda from her after school program and making sure dinner was prepared on time. It was all slowly falling into place, which brought one very important matter to the forefront of Bard’s mind. The divorce. He dreaded thinking about it, but he knew it had to be taken care of sooner rather than later. He had no interest in reconciling with Madison, and he doubted she would ever want that anyway. So it was time to start the long process.

That night, arriving home early from his ‘date’ with Thranduil had earned Bard a curious look from Sigrid. She furrowed her brow when Bard didn’t openly indulge her in the details; apparently he had come back far too early for it to have been a ‘good date’.

“It was only coffee, Sig, how long did you expect it to take to drink coffee?” Bard chuckled, sitting down beside his daughter on the end of the couch.

“Well you wouldn’t have _only_ been drinking coffee, you’d be talking, too, and we all know how much you like to ramble, Da!”

“I don’t ramble.”

“Right, you never, ever ramble.” Sigrid snickered, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna go up and watch Netflix on my computer, I’ll see you in the morning, Da.”

“Okay, darling. Have a good sleep.”

“You too, love you.”

“Love you, too.”

After Sigrid had gone up to her room, Bard stretched out on the couch, getting comfortable. Bain was also upstairs playing video games in his room, and Tilda was already in bed. It appeared as though everything went smoothly while Bard was out. He sighed in relief and grabbed the remote.

Alone with only the rumble of the TV to distract him, Bard brushed his fingers over his cheek where the beautiful blonde had kissed him. It was such an unexpected kiss; it came out of nowhere, but Bard had to admit that he enjoyed it. He was smiling even now as he thought back on it. His mind was still working to piece together why Thranduil had to leave so early, unable to set aside his worry for the night. He sighed, changing the channel, but since nothing good was on he let his mind wander back to his marital issues. He worried about what Madison’s reaction would be once she found out he was filing for divorce. Bard had no plans to tell her; she would find out once she was served with the papers.

Knowing what he had to do, Bard grabbed his old laptop from the kitchen table and settled back onto the couch. He went through his research again, finding all the needed documents online and printing them out. Once he had saved the files and double checked that he had printed all the correct ones, he padded down to the basement to retrieve the papers from the printer.

Filling out the documents proved to be more difficult than Bard expected. He groaned as he looked over each question. Adultery, physical and mental cruelty – how was he supposed to answer these and give detailed descriptions? He didn’t want Madison to know that he was accusing her of such things, even though she was guilty of them all. She _was_ technically cheating on him, she _was_ mentally abusive towards him, and she had even hit him a few times in the past. But writing about it and providing the details made Bard cringe. He filled out everything he could and decided tomorrow he would see if there was a family law office open so he could find an affordable lawyer; he knew he couldn’t do this on his own.

Bard collected the papers, not wanting to leave them out in the open for the kids to possibly stumble upon, and took them upstairs with him. He washed up, got into his night clothes and sunk into bed. Sleep did not find him easily that night and when it did, it was a restless, dreamless sleep.

.*.*.*.

Bard awoke the next morning at just past seven o’clock. It seemed even on the weekend his body was reluctant to slow down. He lay in bed with his eyes open for a few minutes before going to the bathroom to tend to necessities and grab a shower. The idea of pancakes was very tempting, and he knew the children would appreciate it, so he made his way downstairs after pulling on some comfy clothes. The children’s doors were still closed, so he figured he’d wait before starting on breakfast. They deserved to sleep in once in a while.

He booted up his laptop and searched for local family law offices that were open on the weekend. To his surprise there was one place that would be open today at ten a.m. so Bard figured he’d go there as soon as they opened. He got all his documents sorted and put them into a folder, collecting any other necessary items he knew he would need, such as his and Madison’s marriage certificate, his rights to the house, and a statement of his annual income. He worried the most about custody of the children. It didn’t seem as though Madison wanted anything to do with them now that she was with that new man, but Bard didn’t want a custody battle to break out. He had to be prepared.

Tilda was the first to make her way downstairs. She crawled into Bard’s lap after he had shut down his laptop and set it on the coffee table.

“Good morning, little princess. Did you sleep well?” Bard asked, pressing a kiss to her messy hair.

“Morning, Da. Yes, had a good sleep. How was your date last night?”

“Oh, someone’s chipper this morning.” Bard tickled her until she began laughing uncontrollably.  “You know it wasn’t a date, just coffee with a friend, and it was good.”

“Da, stop!” Tilda giggled. “I can’t breathe!” Bard stopped tickling her as she squirmed out of his arms and onto the floor.

“You want pancakes, honeybee?”

“Yes, pancakes!”

“Go wake up your brother and sister and I’ll get to it, okay?”

“Okay!” With that Tilda bounded for the stairs.

She returned as Bard was mixing up the pancake batter, with a rather groggy looking Bain by her side.

“Morning, Bain. Sig didn’t get up?” Bard asked, setting the pan onto the stove top and turning up the heat.

“Yeah, she’s just in the washroom.” Tilda replied, bouncing on her heels as she watched Bard’s every move.

“Morning, Da. I’m starving.” Bain yawned, sitting down at the table as he rubbed his eyes.

“You’re always starving.” Bard chuckled. “Pancakes will be ready soon. How many for you guys?”

“Two for me, Da!” Tilda said.

“I’ll have six!”

“Six?! You don’t need six. You’ll have four.”

“Fine, I’ll have four.” Bain complied.

Tilda and Bain helped set the table with plates and utensils while Bard cooked the pancakes at a leisurely pace, making sure they were done to perfection. Once Bard had finished transferring the last of the pancakes onto a large plate, Sigrid appeared in the kitchen and sat down beside her siblings at the table.

“Morning, Da. Smells good. What’s the occasion?”

“Morning, honey. No occasion, just the weekend.” Bard replied, setting the serving plate in the center of the table before everyone started digging in.

They ate in silence, all making little sounds of praise with every bite. Bain ended up getting a fifth pancake, since Bard didn’t eat all of his.

“Any plans today?” Bard asked the children as they finished off the last of their meal.

“I’ve got homework.” Sigrid said with a sigh of resignation.

“Me too.” Bain said, gulping down his orange juice.

“Well, don’t leave it til the last minute. You want to have some free time this weekend. And what about you, Til?” Bard turned to his youngest, who was stabbing at a leftover edge of pancake with her fork.

“I’ve got a worksheet, Da.”

“So, you all know what to do then. Get ‘er done before tomorrow, then you can have Sunday to relax.”

“Yes, Da.” the children replied.

After they had finished their breakfast they all worked together to clear off the table and load the dishes into the dishwasher.

“I’ve got some errands to run soon, so I’ll be gone for a bit.” Bard announced while he washed off the frying pan in the sink and set it to dry on the dish rack. “Sig, you’ll be in charge while I’m out. You may have to make lunch for yourselves if I don’t get back in time…”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll handle it. Don’t worry.” Sigrid said as she wiped off the table and put away the placemats.

“Thanks. And make sure you do your homework.” Bard reminded them again.

 

.*.*.*.

Based on the appearance of the law office, Bard was surprised when he was greeted with a much more welcoming interior than he would have expected. It had a very warm, homey atmosphere; lamps and potted plants in various corners, quaint decorative items littering the shelves. It was not the sterile environment Bard had anticipated. The colourful décor was reminiscent of a cozy cottage, walls finished with wood paneling and antique-looking crown molding and baseboards.

Unfortunately, the pleasant ambiance of the office did little to calm Bard’s nerves. His palms were sweaty. He clutched the document folder in one hand and wiped the other hand repeatedly on his pants as he made his presence known by ringing the bell at the reception desk.

“Be right with you, honey!” The voice of a woman called out from behind a half closed door beside the reception area. Bard hummed, rolling and unrolling the documents in his hands in anticipation. He made sure he didn’t damage them, but there wasn’t much he could do to calm his worry. Fidgeting had always been his way of alleviating his anxiety.

Bard took a seat on a leather armchair while he waited, unable to still the swarm of thoughts in his head. What would Madison say when she found out he was filing for divorce without even letting her know? Would she fight it and try to get sole custody of the children? After seeing her with her new boyfriend it didn’t seem like she even wanted the children in her life anymore. She hadn’t bothered to contact them since she had left. She did not deserve custody, not even joint custody. She deserved nothing. The thought that she could make this whole ordeal very difficult for Bard left a sour taste in his mouth. He sat on the edge of the chair, foot tapping impatiently as he tried to swallow his concerns.

“Okay, honey, how can I help you?” The sound of the receptionist’s voice drew Bard back to reality.

“I’m here to see,” Bard glanced at the paper he had printed out at home, “Bo Furrinson…about filing for divorce.”

“Okay. I’ll let him know you’re here and he’ll be with you shortly.” The woman smiled before disappearing behind the door.

Within a few minutes a man with unruly hair and an intricate beard stepped out of his office and greeted Bard, telling him to follow him inside. Bard quickly stood up, following the man into his small office and sat down on a chair in front of the desk which the lawyer sat behind.

Bard explained his situation to Mr. Furrinson, asked all the questions that had been on his mind and received help with filling out the documents. He was surprised to find that the lawyer was a very patient and calm man, who provided Bard will all the information he needed so that come Monday, he would be able to file the documents at the court house and get the process under way. Bard’s nerves had calmed immensely once getting advice from the helpful lawyer. He was more at ease with the entire situation; more hopeful that everything would be able to work out in his favour.

It had been difficult for Bard to document Madison’s adultery and cruel behavior towards him, but he knew this was all important information that the courts would need to be aware of. After all the papers were filled out, Bo Furrinson signed them and let Bard go with a few more words of encouragement and a detailed list of everything he would need to take with him when he went to the court house. Bard thanked the lawyer repeatedly before exiting the office and making his way out to his car, waving goodbye to the receptionist as he left.

Bard arrived home shortly after one o’clock. It was as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders, he felt lighter. He let out a sigh of relief as he walked through the door, a little more spring in his step. Although the divorce process would take time and cause him inevitable stress, he was happy. For the first time in a long time he felt he was able to move on with his life – he didn’t feel stuck anymore.

The children were crowded around the table, working away silently on their homework – another reason for Bard to smile. They seemed to be absorbed in their work and Bard didn’t want to distract them, so he only nodded when he walked by.

“We already ate, Da.” Sigrid said, looking up from her laptop. “I made soup.”

“Good girl.” Bard replied, pouring a glass of water for himself. “I’m going to go lie down for a bit, and then maybe grab a shower. Keep working on the homework, please.”

“Okay, da.” The children chorused.

Bard was exhausted after dealing with the divorce documents; there was so much to fill out, so many details of his marriage that he would rather not dwell on, things he wanted to move past as quickly as possible.  A nap was just what he needed right now; maybe he would wake up in an hour feeling rejuvenated. One could only hope. He swiped his mobile from where he left it in his coat pocket and headed up to his bedroom.

He pulled up the blanket from the foot of the bed and rested his head on the mountain of pillows. Just as he was getting comfortable under the blanket, his cell phone dinged beside him. The only people he ever received texts from were Madison, Percy, or lately, Thranduil. He doubted Percy would be contacting him, and he really hoped it wasn’t Madison.

A smile found its way to his face when he saw that the text message was from Thranduil. He assumed Thranduil didn’t want anything to do with him after he’d been called away early when they were out for coffee. But maybe Bard was wrong.

[From: T] 1:17pm – Hey. I just wanted to let you know that I’m really sorry I had to leave early last night. I hope you can forgive me, and maybe we can do something again, without any interruptions. Hope your day is going well :)

[To: T] 1:20pm – Hey :) No need to apologize, I understand. Sometimes things come up, it’s okay. I would like to do something again. My day is going well so far, how is yours?

Bard contemplated asking Thranduil what had happened exactly, why he was forced to leave their date so abruptly, but he decided it wasn’t really any of his business, nor did he want to make Thranduil uncomfortable.

[From: T] 1:22pm – I still feel bad about it and I’d like to make it up to you, so let me know when you are free. My day is slow. I’m on the sofa, being lazy.

[To: T] 1:25pm – No, please don’t feel bad. I’m normally free on weekends or some days during the week after 6pm. I’m being lazy too. Just lying down in bed now.

Bard groaned, it was hard to figure out a time to meet with Thranduil when he also had to work around the children’s schedule. Should he just tell Thranduil that he had kids? Bard didn’t want to keep them a secret. He was interested in Thranduil and he didn’t want to build a relationship on lies. He knew he needed to be honest, but the fear of rejection kept him quiet for the moment.

[From: T] 1:27pm – Lol, in bed at 1:30?

[To: T] 1:28pm – Lol, not just waking up! I was about to take a nap…but I’d rather talk to you.

[From: T] 1:30pm – I bet you’re a lot more comfortable than I am. And I feel honored that you’d postpone your nap to talk to me :) So how does Tuesday night sound?

Bard had to think for a moment, make sure Tuesday night would work with the children’s schedule. He sat in silence for a moment, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to tell Thranduil that he was a father. There was no simple way to say it; he just had to do it. If it pushed Thranduil away, then at least it was better now than later. Bard knew he couldn’t see someone who didn’t accept his children anyway. Better to know these things right away.

[To: T] 1:33pm – I have to tell you something before we make any solid plans…

[From: T] 1:34pm – Yes?

[To: T] 1:36pm – I guess there isn’t an easy way to say this…but I have children.

[From: T] 1:38pm – Thank you for telling me. I have a son. God, it feels good to get that out.

[To: T] 1:40pm – Really? It does feel good to get it out, lol. I felt like I was keeping some big secret.

[From: T] 1:41pm – Yeah, me too. How many do you have?

[To: T] 1:42pm – I have three. Two girls and a boy.

[From: T] 1:44pm – You have no idea how relieved I am that you told me.

[To: T] 1:45pm – Not as relieved as I am, lol. So, it doesn’t bother you then?

[From: T] 1:46pm – Of course not!

[To: T] 1:46pm – Good, just making sure. There are three of them…

[From: T] 1:47pm – Pft! I don’t mind at all. That would be very hypocritical of me.

[To: T] 1:48pm – I just don’t want to scare you off.

[From: T] 1:49pm – You’d have to try harder than that to scare me off, lol.

[To: T] 1:50pm – Good, lol. So how old is your son?

[From: T] 1:51pm – Legolas is 9. How old are yours?

[To: T] 1:52pm – Sigrid is 16, Bain is 14 and Tilda is 8.

[From: T] 1:52pm – Ooh, teenagers! The years I’m dreading

[To: T] 1:54pm – lol, yes teenagers. I’m very lucky that mine are so well behaved. They’re actually all doing their homework right now.

[From: T] 1:55pm – Oh A+ parenting lol I hope Legs will be as good as yours when he gets to that age. So…does Tuesday work? ;)

[To: T] 1:56pm – Haha, yes A+ parenting is right. Tuesday will work, what would you like to do? Coffee again?

[From: T] 1:58pm – No coffee. I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner…?

[To: T] 2:00pm – Yes. I’d like that very much. What time?

[From: T] 2:02pm – I was thinking maybe 6:30?

[To: T] 2:02pm – That works for me. Will your son be there?

[From: T] 2:04pm – No, he won’t be here. I wouldn’t want to spring him on you that fast, lol. And besides, I’d like to spend time with you without any distractions.

[To: T] 2:05pm – That sounds good to me. No distractions.

[From: T] 2:05pm - ;)

[To: T] 2:07pm – btw, you looked extremely beautiful last night.

[To: T] 2:07pm – Sorry, if that was forward, but its true

[From: T] 2:08pm – Thank you. You’re going to make me blush.

[From: T] 2:08pm – You looked pretty gorgeous yourself.

[To: T] 2:09pm – Now I’m the one blushing. I’m not used to being complimented

[From: T] 2:10pm – Well you better get used to it ;)

[To: T] 2:11 pm – I’ll try ;)

[From: T] 2:12pm – Good. I’ll let you take your nap now. Sorry for keeping you, but I’m glad we could talk. :)

[To: T] 2:12pm – I enjoyed talking to you, too. We can talk again tomorrow if you’d like. Have a good rest of the day :)

[From: T] 2:13pm – Thanks. Maybe call me tomorrow? Have a good nap :)

[To: T] 2:14pm – Thanks :) I’ll call you tomorrow then, as soon as I get a chance.

[From: T] 2:14pm – Okay, I look forward to it, ttyl handsome <3

[To: T] 2:15pm – ttyl beautiful <3

How the hell was Bard supposed to take a nap now? All he could think about was what would happen on Tuesday when he went over to Thranduil’s house. It was such a personal invitation; he felt blessed that the blonde man even made the suggestion at all. Bard never thought that Thranduil would actually invite him over for dinner. It was the last thing he had expected, but it made him smile nonetheless. He easily let himself get lost in his predictions, drifting off to sleep before too long.

.*.*.*.

Sunday went by uneventfully.

The children had their homework finished, so they spent most of the day watching movies in the living room while Bard tended to housework. He kept thinking about Thranduil and remembered that he told the man he would call him. So after he had cleaned the kitchen and the bathrooms, he went into his bedroom and retrieved his phone from its place on the night stand.

An uneasy sigh escaped his lips as he made the call. The phone rang for a few seconds and Bard was worried there would be no answer, but finally the line connected and he heard Thranduil’s velvety voice on the other end.

“Hello, Bard.”

“Hey, Thran.” Bard chuckled nervously as he realized he just called Thranduil by a nickname. “Sorry, can I call you that?”

Thranduil laughed. “Of course. How are you today?”

“I’m good. Pretty boring day today, just been doing housework. How’s your day?” Bard gulped. He had never noticed how much he rambled when he was nervous until now.

“I’m fine, thanks. Just been painting.” Thranduil answered, sounding much more relaxed than Bard was.

“Oh, the abstract, or something else?”

“A little bit of everything. A new abstract, a watercolour. That’s what I was doing when you called. Had to wipe off my hands.”

Bard chuckled. “Yeah, don’t want to get paint all over the phone.”

“Exactly. So we’re still on for Tuesday night?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll need to give you my address.”

“That would be helpful. I can put it in the GPS.”

“Do you have a pen? I can give it to you now…”

“Yeah, one sec.” Bard rummaged around in the top drawer of the night stand until he found a pen and scrap piece of paper. “Okay. I found one.”

“Okay, so it’s 2025 Woodland court. Just off of Lakeshore, should be easy enough to find.”

Bard scribbled the address down messily while taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t tell me you live in one of those mansions.” He laughed. Just his luck the man he was pining over would turn out to be massively wealthy. It was obvious that Thranduil had money, but Bard didn’t want to think about just how much he actually had.

“It’s not really a mansion…” Thranduil said. “Just a house.”

“My house is just a house, I bet yours is huge.”

“Oh, shush. You’ll just have to wait and see how huge mine really is.” Thranduil teased.

“Oh, god! You’re awful.” Bard laughed, catching on to the innuendo.

“I know. I’m just the worst.”

“In the best way, though.” Bard concluded.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I do.”

Thranduil hummed. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you again. I feel so bad that I had to cut our date short on Friday.”

“So it was a date then?” Bard ventured, he still wasn’t sure if getting coffee with Thranduil was an actual date, or simply coffee with a friend.

“If that is what you wish. I’d like to consider it a date.”

“Then it was a date.”

“And Tuesday will be our second date.” Thranduil said.

“I can’t wait.” Bard confessed. It was strange to feel this comfortable with someone so quickly, but Bard was enjoying himself, and right now that was all that mattered. It was nice to feel happy amidst all the other crap that was going on in his life.

“Neither can I.” Thranduil agreed. “So, how are your children?”

“They’re good. They’ve finished their homework, thank god. I won’t have to pester them about that any longer. How is your son?”

“He’s doing his homework right now. He’s the typical procrastinator. I try to get him to do it on Friday but he never does.”

Bard laughed. “Ah, a little bit of a rebel.”

“Just like his father.” Thranduil laughed.

Bard chuckled, but before he could say anything he was startled by a knock on his bedroom door. Tilda was calling him to come downstairs.

“Oh, sorry Thran, my youngest is beckoning. I’ve gotta go, but I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yes, talk later. And I’ll see you on Tuesday evening?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Thranduil made a pleased sound. “Good. I’ll see you then. Have a nice day, Bard.”

“You too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Bard sighed, brushing a hand through his hair as he stood up and went to see what Tilda needed.

.*.*.*.

On Monday Bard called in to work, telling them that he had an important family matter that needed tending which would cause him to show up late. He let them know he would be in for eleven o’clock at the latest, and after dropping Tilda off at school, he made a bee-line for the court office with all the documents ready to be filed.

Because he showed up early, the process did not take as long as he expected, and he was out of there with almost an hour to spare before he said he would be at work. The claims would be looked over and documents would be sent to Madison for her answer, which she had thirty days to complete. Depending on the verdict, the divorce may be able to be finalized early, instead of after a year of separation. Bard feared that Madison would fight that claims on adultery and cruelty. But Bard brushed it aside; he would deal with that when it came, for now he was going to take one day at a time.

The rest of the workday went by in a haze; Bard pushed himself and finished all his jobs before heading to pick up Tilda at five o’clock. When they arrived home, Sigrid and Bain were working away on their homework at the kitchen table as usual. Bard started on dinner right away and once they had eaten and cleaned up, he finally had a chance to change out of his work clothes and hop into the shower.

Bard was in the basement transferring the clean clothes from the washing machine into the dryer when he heard the doorbell ring upstairs.

“Sig!” He called out. “Can you get the door?”

“Yeah, I got it.” Sigrid replied.

Bard set the dryer and headed up the stairs quickly; he would be the only one who would be able to get rid of salespeople or someone trying to sell their religion. Poor Sigrid would just stand there and listen, too nice to close the door in their face.

“Who is it?” Bard asked, coming to a screeching halt when he saw who was standing in the doorway. “Madison…”

“Hello, Bard. I’m here to pick up my things.” Madison said curtly, setting her purse down by the front door. Sigrid stood with her arms crossed as she kept a close eye on her mother.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls or texts?” Sigrid blurted out before Bard could say anything.

“I needed space. I had nothing to say. Now, please Sigrid, let me go collect my things.”

“That’s not an answer!”

Within a few seconds both Bain and Tilda had come flying down the stairs to see their mother.

“Mommy!” Tilda squealed, throwing her arms around Madison’s waist, only to be pushed away as Madison made her way to the stairs.

Bain didn’t speak. He surveyed the situation from a safe distance, looking askance at his mother before he plopped himself down onto the couch.

“Aren’t you going to take off those boots?” Bard questioned. Madison had never dressed like this before. She looked so put together with her knee-high black leather boots and her long beige trench coat. Her hair was down, falling over her shoulders and she had on that same shade of lipstick – blood red.

A chorus of noise erupted from the children when Madison bypassed them and headed up the stairs. She didn’t say anything else to any of them. Bard sighed and followed her. How could she brush off her own children like they meant nothing?

“Are you just going to ignore them? They’ve been trying to contact you all week!” Bard said, stepping into the bedroom behind Madison.

“What a fucking mess, Bard. You’re useless.”

“Are you going to talk to them?” Bard pressed, giving Madison a stern look.

“I can’t believe you still don’t know what a hanger is.”

“You’re evading the question.”

“They’re yours Bard. You want them, you think you can do a better job as a parent than I can, then this is your chance. I’m done with all of this.”

Madison began rooting around in the closet, draping clothes over her arm. She moved swiftly, back and forth between the dresser and the closet, collecting as much of her clothing as she could manage, until the pile grew too big to carry. She tossed everything down on the bed, and when Bard heard Tilda approaching, Madison closed the door in her daughters face.

“Mommy! Please! Why are you doing this to me?!” Tilda cried from the other side of the door. Bard wanted to open the door but he didn’t. He just stood there, eyes wide, staring at Madison with shock.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I’m collecting my stuff.” She replied tersely.

“I can see that. I mean what are you doing to the children? Can’t you at least talk to them? They want to see you.”

“I don’t have time to see them. I don’t want to make this harder than it has to be.”

“This is because of that fucking asshole you’re seeing, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter, Bard. They’re your responsibility now. I’m moving on with my life.”

Madison grabbed as much of her stuff as she could, gesturing for Bard to open the door. He did and she sidestepped a crying Tilda, not even bothering to look down at her distraught daughter. Bard scooped Tilda up and stroked her back soothingly, her tears wetting his shirt as she sniffled in his shoulder.

Madison was out of the door, piling her things into the trunk of her car. Bain was still sitting on the couch, a confused expression painted on his face. Sigrid had barely moved, still standing with her arms crossed, as if overseeing the entire situation.  Madison was back inside, and back up the stairs, but this time Bard did not follow, he just held on to Tilda tightly.

After Madison had hauled last of her stuff into her car, she stepped back inside the house to grab her purse.

“What are you doing?” Sigrid asked, shooting her mother a nasty look. “Really, Ma?! Why are you doing this?”

“You want to know why, Sigrid?” Madison snapped. “Your father never loved me, only you! He never cared about me; I don’t think he ever knew how. He was a worthless husband!”

“Don’t talk about Da that way!” Bain yelled, standing up from the couch, breathing heavy.

“It’s okay, guys.” Bard said, trying to diffuse the tension in the air.

“No, it’s not.” Sigrid grumbled.

“Does your father have you all completely fooled?!” Madison shouted, clutching the strap of her purse firmly in her fist.

“Are you coming back to live with us?” Tilda questioned from the grip of Bard’s arms, her voice sounding meek compared to the fire behind Sigrid and Bain’s words.

“No, Tilda. I am not. I’ve found someone else.”

“I want you to stay with Da!”

“Did you all really expect me to stay with someone who is incapable of loving me?”

“What is that supposed to mean?!” Sigrid shot back, her lips drawn into a hard line.

“Yeah, what is that supposed to mean?” Tilda repeated.

Bard wanted to say something but no one was giving him a chance to speak. The anger was bubbling just below the surface, and if the children were not present he would have let every ounce of his anger out. Madison would feel his wrath, but he didn’t want to make this worse than it was, so he remained composed.

“Why don’t you ask you father what ‘gay’ means!” Madison hissed.

“Madison, come on. You can treat me like shit, you can talk to me like this, but don’t you dare bring the children into it.” Bard said calmly, setting Tilda down.

“Don’t you tell me what to do!” Madison took a step forward and in an instant the back of her hand struck Bard across the face leaving a sharp sting in its wake. He blinked, hand reaching up to his face as the sound of gasps echoed in the air.

“Ma!” Sigrid yelled as Tilda ran into her sister’s arms. Sigrid wrapped Tilda into a tight embrace, crouching down to her level.

“I’m leaving.” Madison announced before stepping out of the door.

“Good, get out.” Bard called after her. “I filed for divorce today, so keep an eye out for the papers.”

She didn’t reply, only slammed the car door and sped off.

Bard closed the front door behind him, leaning against it as he let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that.” Bard mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. His shoulders were tense and a nauseous feeling took over and settled into the pit of his stomach. How could Madison treat the children so poorly? How could she badmouth Bard in front of them like that?  When did she become so cruel?

“What the fuck! What a cunt!” Bain yelled, pacing around the living room, television remote in hand.

“Bain! Watch your language.”

“No, Da. She’s so fucking rude! I can’t believe she would do that!”

“I know, just calm down.”

Bain tossed the remote in the direction of the couch but he missed and the device landed harshly on the floor. He grunted, picked up the remote and placed it on the couch before making his way to the stairs. “I’m going to my room.”

“Bain, we can talk about this if you want…” Bard began.

“No, it’s fine. Not now.” Bain said, clattering up the stairs.

Sigrid was still on her knees holding onto Tilda, rubbing circles on her little sister’s back. Bard approached them and Sigrid stood up giving Bard a look.

Tilda glanced up at them, locking eyes with Bard. Her expression was one of pure sadness and confusion. Bard wanted to do everything in his power to make things right, even if that meant explaining Madison’s words.

“Da,” Tilda started, biting her bottom lip and wrinkling her nose. “What does gay mean exactly? I’ve heard kids at school saying it before.”

Bard gulped. He motioned for Tilda to follow him to the couch, taking a seat as she crawled up beside him. Sigrid leaned on the arm of the couch before speaking quietly.

“Do you want me to help, Da?” She asked. As uncomfortable as this was for Bard, he knew having Sigrid there would make it a little easier.

“Sure, Sig. Thank you.”

“So what did mommy mean?” Tilda questioned, eyes peering into Bard’s. Her breathing was steadier than it had been a few minutes ago and luckily she had stopped crying, but her eyes were puffy and red and her posture was still uneasy.

“Tell me, honeybee, what have you heard the kids at school saying?” Bard wanted to know what she knew first, before explaining anything.

“Well, I hear kids at school using the word gay in a bad way. They say, ‘oh, that’s so gay’ and call other people gay like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s just an expression, Tilda. A stupid one.” Sigrid commented.

“So then what does it really mean?” Tilda folded her legs up to her chest and leaned back into the couch cushions.

Bard was anxious as he tried to figure out how best to explain to his daughter what it meant to be gay. He would have to tell her that he, in fact, was not gay, but rather bi, and then proceed to explain that as well.

“Gay is used to describe a person who likes someone of their own gender. So, if a boy likes a boy, or a girl likes a girl.”

“I like girls. Does that mean I’m gay?” Tilda looked shocked, as if she just discovered some sort of secret about herself.

“No, Til.” Sigrid chuckled. “Not ‘like’ in that sort of way. Not the friendship way. In a love way.”

“Oh, okay. I think I understand.” Tilda said, pursing her lips. “So, if a boy is in love with another boy and they get married, then they are gay?”

“Yes, exactly.” Bard said.

“Then what was mommy talking about? Da you like boys? But you married a girl!”

“Da isn’t gay.” Sigrid cut in.

Oh, here we go. Bard was going to have to out his bisexuality. He sucked in a breath but never got the chance to speak as Sigrid continued.

“Da is bi.” Sigrid said, looking at Tilda and then Bard. Bard shot her a curious expression. His cheeks were getting hot. He badly wanted to evade this conversation. Apparently Sigrid knew more about him than she ever let on.

“Sig –” Bard started, but was once again interrupted by his eldest.

“No, Da. It’s okay. I know. I’m not blind.” She said.

“What’s bi, then?”

“Bi means you like both boys and girls.” Sigrid explained. “So Da married Ma, a girl, but he also likes boys, too.”

“Oh!” Tilda said, drawing out the word, her mouth opening into an ‘o’ shape. “I get it now! So mommy lied.”

“Of course she did. She wants us to be mad at Da. She’s being very mean, Til. We don’t deserve to be treated the way she just treated us. We didn’t do anything wrong. None of us, including Da. He didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes adults just fall out of love and that’s life. Things don’t always work out.”

Bard reached out and clasped Sigrid’s hand, squeezing softly. “Thank you, Sig.” He whispered.

“I’m just being honest. I know you will love us no matter what.” She smiled at Bard and the simple gesture melted his heart. He always knew he had amazing children, but right now he felt more love from them than he ever had before.

“You are a gem, my darling.” He stood from the couch, pulling Sigrid into a hug. Tilda jumped up quickly and Bard wrapped an arm around her as well. “I love you both, always and forever.”

“Love you, too, Da.”

“That’s okay that you’re bi, Da.” Tilda said. “You can love whoever you want!”

“Thank you, my sweet honeybee.” Bard pressed a kiss to Tilda’s head before she jumped off the couch.

“Why did Bain go upstairs?” Tilda asked in puzzlement.

“He’s likely angry at your mother and just needs some time to cool down. He’ll be alright. I’ll talk to him later.”

“I’m angry, too.” Sigrid said, folding her arms in front of her chest. “I cannot believe that she did that! And she hit you, Da! Really hard too!” Sigrid squinted her eyes as she examined Bard’s face. “She cut your face with her ring!”

“I can feel it.” Bard grumbled, tracing his fingers along his cheek. He didn’t want to see what kind of mark had been left behind from Madison’s backhand.

Tomorrow he would be going to Thranduil’s house for dinner; he did not want a bruised-up face. He could almost imagine the conversation he’d have to have with Thranduil about it. He would be forced to lie. Hopefully it was nothing more than a small nick; not enough to raise concern.

Once Tilda had settled down, Bard took her up to bed, read her a story and tucked her in. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and said goodnight. He knocked on Bain’s door to see if his son was okay, but Bain told him he didn’t want to talk about it and that he was going to bed. Bard didn’t want to push, so he went back down to the living room.

Sigrid was still downstairs in front of the TV, eyes locked on the mobile phone in her hand.

“You alright, Sig?” Bard asked.

“I’m fine, Da. What about you?”

“Everything’s fine, honey. I just want to let you know that tomorrow I’m going out to see a friend, so you guys will be alone for a while.”

“What time are you going?”

“After work. Around six-thirty-ish. I’ll be back by nine. And I’ll get your dinner ready before I go.”

“I can do dinner, Da.”

“I know you can, but I like to feel useful.” Bard said.

“You are useful, Da. So…is this the same friend you went out for coffee with?” Sigrid questioned, finally looking up from her phone.

Bard hummed. “Yes, honey, same friend.”

“Okay. That’s cool. You need more friends.”

“I know. So don’t let your brother or sister think that it’s a date. Because it’s not.”

“Don’t worry. If it makes you feel better, we can just say you went out with Percy. And I’ll know the truth.” Sigrid winked.

“Sig! It isn’t a date.”

“I know.”

“Good. Now I’m going to bed, and you should too.”

“It’s only ten.”

“We all need a good night’s sleep, so let’s go. You can text in your room. Lights out by eleven, please.”

“Okay, Da.”

Once Bard was settled into bed, he allowed his mind to wander to thoughts of Thranduil. What would it feel like to run his fingers through that silky blonde hair? What kind of reaction would he get from Thranduil if he held his hand, or gently pulled him into an embrace? What would it be like to feel those soft lips against his own?

Surprisingly, Bard managed to fall asleep rather quickly and pleasant dreams filled his head.

Morning arrived all too soon. Bard didn’t feel properly rested, but he got out of bed anyway and headed for the shower. Once he was dressed for work he made sure all the children were awake before he went down stairs to pack their lunches and start on breakfast. Bard whistled while he made porridge; feeling very giddy and excited. It was Tuesday. He was going to see Thranduil tonight. His heart fluttered in his chest as he tried to imagine what the night would bring.

Sigrid and Bain went out to the bus stop once everyone had eaten and cleaned up. Bard and Tilda left shortly after. Once Tilda was dropped off, Bard continued on to work. He hoped he would be busy so the day could go by quickly. He hated slow days that dragged and he hoped today would not be one of those days.

Luckily, work was busy enough to keep his mind distracted until his lunch hour.

Bard had packed a lunch for himself - a turkey sandwich - so he sat in the break room and ate in silence, until his mobile buzzed drawing his attention from his half eaten sandwich. His face lit up when he saw that he had just received a text from Thranduil.

[From: T] 12:06pm – Hello gorgeous. Can’t wait to see you tonight

[To: T] 12:06pm- Hey beautiful. I can’t wait to see you, too.

[From: T] 12:07pm – Are you busy today at work?

[To: T] 12:07pm – Yes. Pretty busy. Lunch break now

[From: T] 12:07pm – Bet you look good all dirty and sweaty ;)

[To: T] 12:08pm – Oh yeah. You know it. I bet you look even better, though.

[From: T] 12:08pm – Maybe. I’m barely dressed yet.

[To: T] 12:09pm – Oh, god! You’re going to get me all flustered at work, lol

[From: T] 12:10 pm – Oops. ;) Did you know you run your hands through your hair when you’re flustered and nervous? Which is completely understandable, of course. I’d like to run my hands through your hair when I’m nervous, too.

[To: T] 12:11pm – Haha, that’s funny coming from someone who’s got the most gorgeous hair I’ve ever seen.

[From: T] 12:11pm – You flatter me

[To: T] 12:12pm – I’d like to run my fingers through your hair whether I’m nervous or not.

Bard smirked and decided to get a bit bolder. He was having entirely too much fun teasing Thranduil, just as he imagined Thranduil was having fun teasing him as well.

[To: T] 12:13pm – Do you like when people run their fingers through your hair? If you don’t know, then I’d be willing to help you find out whether you do or not

[From: T] 12:13pm – lol! If I let you try, I’m sure we’d find out more things we both like to do ;)

[To: T] 12:14pm – OMG did you really just say that??

[From: T] 12:14pm – I did. So, what do you say?

[To: T] 12:14pm – I’m game if you are.

[From: T] 12:15pm – Good. So…when you come over for dinner I can show you my etchings.

[To: T] 12:15pm – Etchings? But I thought you were a painter?

[From: T] 12:16pm – I can be anything you want ;)

[To: T] 12:16pm – I might want a lot.

[From: T] 12:17pm – I might, too

[To: T] 12:17pm – God, you’re so bad

[From: T] 12:18pm – Just a little and only for you

[To: T] 12:18pm – I’m honored

[From: T] 12:19pm – So am I. I better get dressed now

[To: T] 12:20pm – Are you still in bed?

[From: T] 12:20pm – Naked in bed

[To: T] 12:21pm – omg, I may just die

[From: T] 12:22pm – lol, please don’t die. At least stay alive long enough for our date tonight

[To: T] 12:23pm – I promise I won’t die. But if I do, it will be your fault

[From: T] 12:23pm – I’m sure I’d be able to resurrect you

[To: T] 12:24pm – I have no doubt

[From: T] 12:24pm - ;)

[To: T] 12:25pm – So how is the king able to stay in bed so late on a Tuesday?

[From: T] 12:25pm – Well, the ‘king’ was up late last night painting. So today is my day off.

[To: T] 12:26pm – Ah, yes. The life of the great artiste

[From: T] 12:26pm – A very tiring life. Do you prefer red or white wine?

[To: T] 12:27pm – Whichever you prefer. I haven’t had wine in ages, so it’s your choice.

[From: T] 12:27pm – I like red. So red it will be.

[To: T] 12:28pm – Sounds good to me. So should I dress up for tonight?

[From: T] 12:29pm – Pft. No need. Wear whatever you want.

[From: T] 12:29pm – or nothing at all ;)

[To: T] 12:30pm – lol! Wouldn’t want to scare you

[From: T] 12:30pm – I’d be many things, but scared isn’t one of them

[To: T] 12:31pm – Haha, omg. You’re going to be the death of me, I swear!

[From: T] 12:32pm – You might be the death of me, too. What a beautiful death it would be

[To: T] 12:32pm – Mm, yes a glorious death

[From: T] 12:33pm – Lol. I should get up soon and shower.

[To: T] 12:34pm – Yes, and I should actually eat my lunch lol

[From: T] 12:35pm – Yes, eat your lunch. I’ll be thinking of you

[To: T] 12:36pm – You know I’ll be thinking of you, too.

[From: T] 12:36pm – Good. Ttyl gorgeous <3

[To: T] 12:37pm – See you tonight, doll <3

Bard groaned as he set his phone down. God, Thranduil really would be the death of him. He finished off the rest of his lunch in record time, savouring the feeling of the adrenaline rushing through his veins and his heart thrumming wildly in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had teased him like that.

When his lunch break was over, he pocketed his phone and headed back to the shop to finish up his daily tasks. He tried to consume himself with his work, but his mind would not stop presenting him with the enticing image of Thranduil lying naked in bed. Bard could barely concentrate on what he was doing and it only made things worse when his phone vibrated in his pocket and he saw another text from Thranduil.

[From: T] 2:34pm – A lovely shower. Thought of you the entire time. Finally put on underwear.

Bard let out an audible groan, drawing Percy’s attention. His friend shot him an odd look, before shaking his head and going back to his work. Was Bard really that obvious? He typed out a reply quickly and sent it to Thranduil.

[To: T] 2:37pm – Mmm I bet you look stunning with or without underwear

[From: T] 2:39pm – Better without, but I’ll let you be the judge of that

[To: T] 2:42pm – OMG lol you bastard. Gonna get fired if I keep texting. Talk later <3

[From: T] 2:44pm – K. don’t work too hard! <3

.*.*.*.

After punching out, Bard rushed to pick up Tilda. The traffic was worse than usual, Bard’s frustration building by the second. He just wanted to get home and fix dinner for the children. The anticipation was killing him. He had been thinking about Thranduil all day and he’d be damned if this traffic would keep him from where he wanted to be.

Thanks to the traffic they arrived home later than usual. Bard unlocked the door and let Tilda in before him, kicking off his boots hurriedly once he stepped inside. He flung his coat over the back of the chair and went straight to the kitchen. He needed to start on dinner. He had originally planned to make burgers but to save time he decided on sandwiches instead.

Sigrid and Bain were at the kitchen table, both so engrossed in their homework that they didn’t even look up when Bard entered.

“Hey.” Bard greeted, opening the fridge and rooting around for the sliced ham and swiss cheese. “Homework?”

“Yup.” Bain said, his eyes transfixed on the screen of his laptop. “I’m so close to being done this essay.”

“Good for you. Sandwiches for dinner. I know, we all had sandwiches for lunch, but I’m running late.” Bard said, barely stopping for a breath. He hoped the children didn’t sense the edge in his voice.

“Sandwiches are fine, Da.” Sigrid reassured, getting up from the table to help Bard. Of the three children, he knew Sigrid would be the one to pick up on his mood.”I can do it if you want to go get ready.”

“No, it’s okay, Sig.” Bard waved her off, keeping his eyes focused on the bread he was laying out on each plate.

“Really, Da. I can do it. You don’t want to be late.” She pushed him aside, grabbing a knife and the jar of mayo. “I got it.”

“Oh, Sig. Did I ever tell you that you’re a lifesaver?” Bard smiled, patting her on the shoulder.

“I know, Da. Now go shower.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.” Bard practically ran out of the room and up the stairs, stripping off his work clothes as he reached his bedroom.

After his shower, he ran a comb through his damp hair, trying to get it to cooperate. He drew the strands back into a half ponytail, but ended up pulling the elastic out and tossing it on the dresser, sighing. What if Thranduil wanted to run his fingers through Bard’s hair? He wouldn’t let an elastic get in the way of that. So he left it loose. 

Bard rummaged around in his closet for something suitable to wear. Never in his life had he been this concerned about his appearance, but tonight, he wanted to look good for Thranduil. He chose a pair of dark blue jeans, but had more difficulty finding a top to match. He tried on a few shirts, only to take them back off and chuck them onto the end of the bed. He was making a mess in his attempt to find something that didn’t look ridiculous.

In the end, he settled on a collared shirt with blue and grey vertical stripes. The children had given it to him as a Christmas present last year and he hadn’t had a chance to wear it yet. He left the top buttons undone and rolled up the sleeves as he eyed himself in the mirror. He had to admit he looked pretty good despite the red bump on his face - an ugly reminder of Madison’s cruel treatment.

A belt was the next item he needed to make a decision on. He went with his old favourite – one made of black leather with a well-worn metal buckle, nothing too flashy, but still interesting enough to help complete his outfit. He looked himself over in the mirror once again, finally content with his clothing choice. He nodded at his reflection before making his way downstairs.

Grabbing his phone from his coat pocket, Bard sent Thranduil a text saying that he would be leaving in a few minutes.

“I’m leaving soon.” Bard called out to the children, who were all still huddled around the kitchen table. “Do your homework while I’m gone. I’ll be home by nine o’clock.”

Tilda ran out to give Bard a hug and Sigrid popped her head around the doorway and winked at Bard.

“I’ll handle things here, Da. Have a good time.”

“Thanks, Sig.”

Bard slipped on a pair of black lace-up boots and grabbed his worn leather jacket from the coat closet. He gave Tilda a kiss on the head, prying her arms from around his waist.

“I’ll be back soon, honeybee.” He said, kneeling down and kissing her again on the cheek. “Be good for Sig, okay?”

“Yes, Da. Have a good time with your friend.” Tilda said, finally pulling away from Bard.

“Thank you, darling.”

“Okay, go, Da. You don’t want to be late.” Sigrid chuckled as she shoved Bard towards the door.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”

“Of course not! Just go have fun.”

“Okay, I will. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.”

“Okay.”

“Okay then, I’m off.”

“Bye, Da.” Sigrid and Tilda said in unison.

“Bye, guys. Bye Bain!” He called out in the direction of the kitchen, receiving a quiet ‘bye’ from his son in return.

Once Bard stepped outside, the nerves hit him. He was really doing this; he was really going to have dinner with Thranduil.

.*.*.*.

 

Driving through the upper class part of the neighborhood made Bard feel slightly awkward – this was the area he used to drive through early on Sunday mornings to admire all the beautiful homes. It was something he used to do with Madison and the children years ago, when Tilda was still a baby. It was their dream to live in one of the massive mansions near the lake even though they knew that would never be a reality; it was still nice to imagine it. Being here now, all by himself, was very surreal. Bard felt out of place driving his beat-up old car in such a neighborhood, when all the other driveways housed expensive Mercedes or BMWs.

Bard swallowed the lump in his throat when the GPS let him know to turn left in 100 metres onto Thranduil’s street. He was nervous. He had no idea what to expect of this dinner. Bard noticed how many trees there were on Thranduil’s street compared to what he was used to in his part of town. On Bard’s street, each house only had one spindly little tree in the front yard – very different from here where the trees were large and covered most of the yard.

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as drew in a deep breath. He needed to calm down. The sound of the GPS caused Bard’s body to jolt as it indicated that Thranduil’s house was coming up around the turn.

His breath caught as he pulled into the driveway. God, what an immaculate house. It must be worth millions. Bard had never been inside a house like this before. He never thought he would have reason to. He sat in the car for a few seconds, completely stunned. Thranduil’s words from earlier in the day kept playing over and over in his head, chasing away all coherent thoughts. What was going to happen when he finally mustered up the courage to leave the safety of his car?

So without further ado, Bard pulled himself together, slid out of the car, and made his way to Thranduil’s front door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dinner date is coming in the next chapter! What do you think is going to happen?
> 
> :)


	8. Basorexia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, here is a big fat 11.3k chapter! Hope no one minds how long it is!

Basorexia (n.) the overwhelming desire to kiss.

* * *

 

Thranduil reclined on the couch, knees pressed to his chest and a yerba maté in hand. A rare feeling of excitement was bubbling just below the surface, weaving its way throughout his entire being. Never before had a text conversation gotten him so worked up. Bard really knew how to push all his buttons in exactly the way he wanted them to be pushed. Being with Galion for so many years hadn’t put a damper on his ability to flirt, but it did force him to keep his playful nature hidden.

The house was empty ever since Galion left yesterday, so Thranduil had been painting and lounging around all day. It was Monday and Legolas was at school until the afternoon so Thranduil figured he would take the time alone to call the locksmiths. He had meant what he said to Legolas about being done with Galion. The locks would be changed and Thranduil would start packing up all of Galion’s things so that when he returned on the weekend everything would be boxed and ready. Although he was feeling confident about this change, he was still apprehensive about Galion’s reaction. Galion never reacted well to things; it was either bad or _really_ bad.

It was just past eleven o’clock when Thranduil ventured back down into his art studio to tidy up before the locksmiths were set to arrive at noon. He washed his paint brushes and squeegees, emptied out the murky water and put all the tubes of paint back in their case. Once everything was organized he stopped to turn off the light, grimacing as he glanced over the room. The memories from a few nights ago were still fresh in his mind. No matter what he did he could not quash the horrible emotions that were now tied to the place that had once been his sanctuary. It was as if the air in the room had been tainted and nothing could ever return it to its previous state. Thranduil seriously considered painting in a different room of the house from now on.

When the locksmiths arrived, Thranduil watched tentatively from the foyer, making sure they didn’t scuff up the floor with their boots. When the job was done, Thranduil paid them, sighing in relief that the job was actually done and Galion wouldn’t be able to get in.

Thranduil had to go to the hardware store to get more keys made for the new lock. He needed one for Legolas and at least two spares. So, he headed upstairs to his bedroom to grab a sweater and some thick socks. He hated the idea of having to drive, pondering over taking the bus instead, but he pushed his fears aside, sucked in a breath and went back downstairs. He stopped in the kitchen for a quick bite to eat, seeing as he hadn’t had anything at all today. He settled for yogurt and a handful of grapes, washing it down with some almond milk.

He put on his heavy coat and scarf, slipped his feet into his boots and swiped his keys from the hook before heading outside. He locked the door with the new key and made sure he had his wallet as he sauntered over to the car. The wind outside was cold and he was beginning to regret his decision of wearing yoga pants instead of changing into something warmer. Too late now, he was already in the car.

“Fuck.” He groaned as he put the key in the ignition and started the car. It was freezing, so he waited for a few minutes until the car heated up, nodding along to the music on the radio.

Lucky for him, there was very little traffic at this hour, so he managed to keep his stress under control. As he was turning into the parking lot of the hardware store, the car in front of him started slowing down for no apparent reason. “C’mon, fucking go. No one’s in front of you.” He grumbled at the vehicle as if the driver would be able to hear him. “Just hit the gas, idiot.” He was tempted to honk the horn but he resisted; he did not need to be involved in an episode of uncalled-for road rage. Once the car ahead of him had finally gotten out of the way, he found a parking spot near the entrance of the store and put the car in park. “Finally.” He lamented, sighing as he unwound the scarf from his neck. He didn’t know what had gotten him so hot, the heater or that idiot driver. Either way the scarf needed to go.

He spent as little time as was possible in the hardware store, feeling sorely out of place amongst the stereotypical shoppers. He wandered the aisles while the keys were being cut, looking at all the merchandise that he had no idea how to use. Thranduil had never been very mechanically inclined, sometimes struggling with the dishwasher on occasion. The only time he ever came to the hardware store was when he wanted to get new tools for his paintings.

 Once the keys were ready and he had paid, he made a pit stop to pick up some take-out before he headed home. He had painting to catch up on so there was no point being out when he had work that needed to get done.

He ate his lunch in front of the TV, laughing along with the ridiculous answers on Family Feud. He checked the time on his phone and decided to send a text message to Haldir to see if his friend would be able to watch Legolas tomorrow night while he had Bard over for dinner. As much as he loved his son, Thranduil didn’t want Legolas to be home while he had dinner with Bard. It would be far too awkward with his son there and he wanted to make sure Bard was in a comfortable enough environment to open up and be himself. Also, he didn’t want Bard’s presence to confuse Legolas, so he figured it was better for everyone if Legolas wasn’t at home.

[To: Haldir] 2:09pm – can you watch Legolas tomorrow night?

He sent the text and put his phone back on the coffee table, ignoring it for the time being. Haldir always took forever to reply anyway. He would be lucky if he got a text back within the hour.

As Thranduil threw out the empty food containers, he absently wondered what Bard was up to, what he was thinking about right now. He hoped Bard was thinking about him. He hoped he stood a chance. But he knew the only way for anything to ever work out between them all depended on him. Thranduil did not feel right starting something with Bard while Galion was still in the picture; that would not be fair to Bard. He had to stop procrastinating and do the one thing he had been thinking about for months - end the relationship with Galion once and for all. They had broken up a few times in the past but Galion always managed to weasel his way back into Thranduil’s life. And of course, Thranduil never put up much of a fight, not being one for confrontation. But this time, he had to put his foot down. He couldn’t let someone treat him the way Galion had treated him the other night. He shook the thought from his mind, not wanting to let his emotions get the best of him in the middle of the day. He told himself that he wouldn’t dwell on it.

In celebration of moving on, Thranduil marched up the stairs and into his room. It was time to pack up Galion’s things. Doing so would make everything progress quicker when that asshole returned from wherever the hell he had gone for the week. If everything was packed and ready, then there would be no reason for Galion to linger. Getting rid of him was all that currently mattered to Thranduil, not only for his own safety, but more importantly, for the safety of his son.

As he was digging through the drawers, tossing all of Galion’s clothes onto a pile on the floor, he was startled by the sound of his mobile ringing from downstairs. He bolted down to answer it before it went to voicemail, making it just in the nick of time.

It was Haldir calling.

“Hey.” Thranduil answered, out of breath from rushing down the stairs.

“Hey. Whats wrong with you?” Haldir asked.

“What? Oh, just had to run to my phone.”

“You should just keep it with you, Thran.” Haldir tsked.

“I should, but I don’t. What’s up? Did you get my text?”

“Yeah, I texted you back but since you don’t keep your phone on you I’m guessing you didn’t see it.”

“So? Can you watch him?” Thranduil asked.

“Yeah, it should be fine.”

“Thanks.”

“How are you? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” Haldir said, sounding a little too concerned for Thranduil’s liking.

“I know. Sorry. I’ve been really busy lately, but everything is fine.”

“I hope so. You know I worry about you.”

“No need to worry about me, Hal. I’m fine, just tired.”

“Alright. So what’s going on tomorrow night?”

“Oh, not much, just dinner.”

“Dinner with who, that piece of shit boyfriend?”

Thranduil scoffed. “God no. Someone else.”

“Someone else, huh? So did you finally kick Galion to the curb?”

“Not yet, but it’s under way. Fear not. He will be out of my life soon.”

“Really? You’re actually going through with it this time?”

“Yes. No more bullshit, Hal. I can’t do it anymore. Thank god he’s away for the week.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. You don’t need that asshole bringing you down. I hope you can see now how abusive he really is.”

“Oh, yes. You don’t even know the half of it.”

“What? What’d he do this time?”

Thranduil let out a long-suffering groan. “He’s just as disgusting as you always suspected.”

“Now you’ve got me worried, Thran. I will fucking kill him with my bare hands if he hurt you.”

“Not if I kill him first.”

“Just tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. I just don’t want to dwell on it.”

“Okay, sorry. I shouldn’t push, I know. You’ll tell me if you want to. So, who are you having over for dinner? A client?”

“No, not a client. I’m sort of interested in someone. So I’ve invited him for dinner tomorrow night. I hope I don’t completely embarrass myself.”

“Ohh! And why would you embarrass yourself?” Haldir chuckled in amusement.

“Because I’m so out of practice with this sort of thing. I’m nervous as hell but yet I’m so tempted to flirt with him. God, what’s wrong with me?” Thranduil groaned, throwing himself down on the couch.

Haldir laughed. “You’re starting to sound more like yourself again. So just flirt with him, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could die of humiliation.” Thranduil deadpanned.

Haldir scoffed. “He’s clearly interested in you, too, if he agreed to go to your place for dinner. So, quit worrying.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll try.”

“So tell me, where did you meet this guy? And what’s his name?” Thranduil could hear the curiosity rising in Haldir’s voice. Haldir had always been a nosy bastard, much too involved in the local gossip.

“His name is Bard and I met him at the pub. Don’t laugh at me, it’s not like that.”

Haldir laughed anyway. “At the pub? You hate those places.”

“I went there one night while Legs was at a sleepover. I needed to get away from Galion and you know how I like to people-watch…so I figured I’d go to the pub. I wanted some new subjects to sketch, and that’s when I saw him.”

“Ow, ow!” Haldir bellowed. “Did you draw him?”

“Yes, and then I gave him the drawing and my number.”

“Oh my god, Thran. Very bold.”

“I know, but he called, didn’t he? So I guess it wasn’t as ridiculous as it sounds.”

“I’m actually kind of jealous. That sounds like the way people meet in those romantic comedies. Did you eye fuck from across the bar?”

Thranduil snorted. “Maybe a bit.”

“So the stars have aligned and brought the two of you together. How romantic!”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“No, I’m serious! Maybe it’s fate, you meeting someone so that you’ll finally end things with Galion. It’s exactly what you needed.”

“Maybe…”

“Just take a chance with him. Don’t let Galion stand in the way anymore. You deserve some happiness in your life, and who knows, maybe you found the one.”

“God, you’re so sappy.” Thranduil rolled his eyes.

“Sappy means happy, Thran! Just go with it, be yourself and flirt with him a bit.”

“Ah, I will try. If I even remember how to be myself anymore.”

“You know I want to kill Galion for making you repress who you are, right?”

“Yes I know.” Thranduil sighed, he hated that being stuck with someone like Galion had actually changed him, and not for the better. He had become cautious and anxious in most situations these days, reacting to things very differently than he would have years ago.

“So do you want me to pick Legolas up tomorrow evening then?”

“Would you mind?”

“Of course not. What time?”

“Well, Bard is coming over around six-thirty, so any time before that.”

“I can pick him up from school if you want? Then he can just eat here. And I can drop him off, too.” Haldir suggested.

“Really? You are a lifesaver, thank you.”

“Anything to help make your date go smoothly! When should I drop him off?”

“Nine o’clock should be fine.” Thranduil said.

“Alright, sounds like a plan.”

“I gotta go now, Hal. I’m packing up Galion’s shit.”

“Ha! Good. Leave it out on the side of the road.” Haldir chuckled.

“A very tempting idea, indeed. I’ll text you later.”

“Okay. Bye, Thran.”

“Bye.”

Thranduil put down his phone and went to the kitchen to make some tea. He took the mug of tea upstairs with him and sunk down to the floor so he could go through the pile of Galion’s clothes. Since he didn’t have any cardboard boxes at the moment, he padded back down to the kitchen to fetch a large garbage bag. He laughed about the fact that he was putting Galion’s clothes into a trash bag. That was exactly where all that fucker’s stuff belonged – in the trash. Luckily, there wasn’t a lot that needed to be packed, only clothing and a few electronics. Galion didn’t have hobbies or interests which meant he didn’t have a lot of personal items. Everything else in the house belonged to Thranduil – the furniture, the appliances, everything was Thranduil’s. How did Galion ever survive before? Thranduil pushed the thought from his mind; he didn’t care. It didn’t matter anymore. He was done with Galion.

Once he finished packing and his mug of tea was empty, he went back to his studio to continue working on his current painting, keeping an eye on the clock. He would have to make his way out to the bus stop soon; it was almost time for Legolas to get back from school.

With only minutes to spare before the bus was due to arrive, Thranduil ran up the stairs and threw on his coat and scarf, stuffed his feet into his old Uggs before heading out the door. He knew Legolas hated when he showed up for the bus dressed like he was, but today, Legolas would just have to endure the embarrassment.

Other parents were out waiting for their children as well, but Thranduil kept to himself and didn’t involve himself in their conversations. When the bus arrived, Thranduil smiled at the sight of his son. Legolas bounded towards him with a horrified look on his face.

“Hey leaf!” Thranduil greeted him, leaning down to give him a quick hug.

“Ada! What are you wearing?” Legolas gasped, reluctantly hugging his father.

“What, you don’t like my outfit?” Thranduil said in a mock scandalized tone.

“You look like a bum.”

“Such a kind boy you are.”

“It’s true. And those awful boots!” Legolas made a face, sticking out his tongue.

“They were all I had time to put on.” Thranduil said as they started walking back to the house.

“Gross.”

“I know. Next time I’ll make sure I look presentable. So how was school?”

“It was fine.”

“Any homework?”

“Not much.” Legolas replied.

When they reached the house, Thranduil took out the new key and remembered he would need to give Legolas a new one as well.

“Oh, before I forgot,” Thranduil began, stepping inside out of the cold while locking the door behind him. “I need to give you something.”

“Ooo, a present?” Legolas chimed, kicking off his shoes and struggling out of his heavy winter coat.

“Not really a present. But I think you’ll be happy about it.” Thranduil told him while he took his son’s coat and hung it up in the closet next to his own. He straightened out their shoes before grabbing a little plastic bag from the table in the foyer which contained the new keys.

“What is it?”

“This,” he said, pulling out the key and holding it up, “is your new key.” He handed it to Legolas, who took it and inspected it closely.

“A key?” Legolas exclaimed. “Why am I going to be happy about a key, Ada?”

“Because I changed the locks.” Thranduil smiled.

“Ohh.” Legolas’s eyes lit up, finally realizing what that meant. “So he can’t get in!”

“Exactly.”

“Really Ada? You actually did it?”

“I actually did it. He isn’t allowed to come back here.”

Legolas gasped, still looking at the key as if he could not believe what he was being told. “Let me see!” He opened the front door and slid the key into the lock with another pleased sound. “It fits!”

“Yup. And the one he has doesn’t.”

“Oh, Ada. This is such good news.”

“See, I told you you’d be happy about it.”

Thranduil took the key back from Legolas as he picked up his son’s backpack to find the old key. He replaced it with the new one. “There.” He said, setting Legolas’s bag back onto the floor. “Now you’re all set.”

“Thanks, Ada. Can I have a snack?”

“Of course. What would you like?” They made their way into the kitchen and Legolas rooted around in the cupboard, humming in thought as he scrutinized every item.

“Something good.” He answered eventually, not looking pleased with anything he found. “All of this stuff is gross. Banana chips, Ada? Who eats these?”

“I do.”

“Yuck.” Legolas stuck out his tongue and shook his head.

“Why don’t you have some fruit? Thranduil suggested, opening the fridge door. “We have strawberries, raspberries and blueberries. I can put them all in a bowl for you.”

“Do we have any chocolate bars?”

“No, no chocolate bars. I’ll have some berries, too. Here.” Thranduil took out the containers of fruit, grabbing two bowls from the cupboard. He set them on the counter and proceeded to fill them with equal amounts of strawberries, raspberries and blueberries.

“Can you put sugar on mine?” Legolas asked, watching Thranduil closely.

“Only a bit. They’re already sweet enough.” Thranduil sprinkled a small amount of sugar over the fruit in Legolas’s bowl and then placed the bowl in his son’s outstretched hands.

They went into the living room to eat on the couch because Legolas wanted to watch TV for a little while. Thranduil gave him the remote and let him choose the channel, watching the expression on his son’s face change until he found something he liked. They watched the cartoon in silence and when their bowls were empty Thranduil took them out to the kitchen and put them into the dishwasher. He leaned against the island counter for a while, appreciating how normal everything felt without Galion’s presence. He let himself get lost in the thought of what life would bring once Galion was truly out of their life, how normal everything would be.

He twirled a strand of hair around his finger, examining the ends as thoughts of Bard crept into his mind. Thranduil couldn’t deny that he was nervous for their dinner date tomorrow, but it was a good sort of nervous, it got his blood pumping and raised his adrenaline. He considered Haldir’s advice about just going for it, flirting with Bard. He decided that tomorrow, while Bard was at work, he would send him some cheeky text messages, see if the man would play along. But for now, Thranduil had to tell Legolas that Haldir would be picking him up after school tomorrow and he’d be spending time there in the evening.

The sound of Legolas’s vibrant laughter tore Thranduil from his musings. How wonderful it was to hear his son laughing in their own home. He smiled and went back to join Legolas on the couch.

“What’s so funny?” Thranduil asked.

“Just this show.”

“I’ve gotta tell you something, little leaf.”

“Yes?” Legolas looked away from the TV, peering up into his father’s eyes. “What is it?”

“Tomorrow Haldir is going to pick you up from school, is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, I like Haldir, he’s funny.”

“Yes, he is funny. And he’ll drop you back off at nine o’clock.”

“So I’m spending the whole night there?”Legolas asked.

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind, but Ada is having a friend over for dinner…” Thranduil said, unsure if the news would upset Legolas or not.

“But Haldir _is_ your only friend.”

“Remember that other night when I was smiling at my phone and you wondered what was wrong with my face?” Thranduil recalled the moment fondly.

“Yeah! You looked silly!” Legolas chuckled.

“Well I was smiling because I met a new friend, and he’s going to come over for dinner tomorrow night. It won’t be for very long, only a few hours, and Haldir will drop you off afterwards.”

“Okay. Is he nice?” Legolas questioned with a curious look on his face.

“Yes, he is very nice.”

“Not mean like Galion?”

“No, he’s nothing like Galion. Don’t worry, leaf.” Thranduil reassured him. He didn’t want Legolas to be worried about him spending time with Bard. It made sense that Legolas was a bit apprehensive, though, so Thranduil would do his best to quell any of his son’s worries. “I don’t want friends like that. Only nice people, I promise.”

“Okay, good.” Legolas smiled, but his expression was hesitant.

Thranduil leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his head. “Thank you, sweet boy. Now, please start your homework while I get dinner ready, okay?”

“Okay, Ada. Can I do it on the couch?”

“Only if the TV doesn’t distract you.”

“I’ll turn it off.”

“Okay, then that is fine. Let me know if you need help.” Thranduil said, getting up from the couch to go start on dinner. He decided to make chicken fajitas tonight, since they were one of Legolas’s favourite.

He cooked at a leisurely pace; it wasn’t even past five yet, so there was no rush. He hoped Legolas was actually working on his homework. The absence of sound from the living room could either be a good thing or a bad thing, so he peered around the doorway to make sure his son was indeed working away, and was grateful to see Legolas with his face buried in his worksheets, scribbling as fast as his little hand could go.

After they had eaten dinner, and Legolas had taken a bath, Thranduil made sure all his son’s homework was complete and filed away in his backpack, ready for tomorrow. With Legolas up in his room reading, Thranduil went back down to his studio to get some work done. He let himself get caught up in his painting and before too long it was time for Legolas to go to bed. Thranduil cleaned off his paint brush, letting it rest in the water while he went to get his son ready for bed.

“Time for bed, Legs.” He called out as he approached Legolas’s bedroom. His son was lying on his bed in his pajamas, absorbed in the book he was reading.

Legolas hummed, not looking up from his book.

“C’mon, you can read more tomorrow when you’re at Haldir’s. Go brush your teeth. It’s time for bed.”

“Okay, fine.” Legolas trudged out of his room to go brush his teeth while Thranduil sat on his bed waiting for him to return.

“Ready?” Thranduil asked once Legolas appeared, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, crawling under the covers.

Thranduil tucked him in, pulling up the covers and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Goodnight. Sweet dreams, little leaf.”

“Night, Ada.” He said, shifting around, trying to get comfortable.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Thranduil flicked on the night light on the wall opposite Legolas’s bed and turned off the lamp on his night stand. “Call me if you need anything, I’ll be working.”

“Okay.”

The rest of the night was spent painting. Time always seemed to fly when Thranduil was working. The paintings consumed him, taking on a life of their own and dragging Thranduil into a whole other world. The next time he looked at his phone, he gasped seeing that it was well past one a.m. Where did the time go? He yawned and got up from his seat, taking his paint brushes over to the sink to wash them. Once they were thoroughly cleaned and set out to dry, Thranduil turned off the lights and went upstairs to get ready for bed.

He was exhausted and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The alarm roused Thranduil from his deep sleep at seven a.m. He grunted and grudgingly tossed the covers off himself, sitting up in a daze before he headed to the bathroom.

He woke Legolas and helped him get ready for school before packing his lunch and taking him out to the bus stop. Once Legolas was off to school, Thranduil went back up to his room, stripping off all his clothes and getting back into bed. He didn’t bother setting an alarm; his body would wake him once he was fully rested.

It was almost noon when Thranduil finally woke up. His hair was a mess and he badly needed a shower, but he would have time for that later. Right now, he wanted to text Bard. So he did.

It was a rather bold way to start his day, texting Bard so flirtatiously. And much to his surprise, Bard flirted back, as if he were enjoying their banter just as much as Thranduil was. Thranduil had even gone so far as to indulge Bard in the fact that he was naked in bed. That got a good response from Bard. Thranduil lay there smirking at his phone, feeling rather aroused for the first time in long while. God, what was Bard doing to him?

He reluctantly ended the conversation with Bard, letting the man get back to his lunch. Thranduil finally slid out of the comfort of his bed and went into the bathroom to take a shower. A cold shower was what he needed after those texts.

A giddy feeling rose up in his chest after it dawned on him that today was actually Tuesday and tonight Bard would be in his house. Finally, they would be occupying the same space, breathing in the same air. The thought made Thranduil smile as he began preparing lunch for himself. With their coffee date being cut short, Thranduil felt like he hadn’t gotten a proper chance to get to know Bard. It was also hard to get to know someone in a public setting. Being alone in a familiar environment would be much more pleasing, for Thranduil at least, and hopefully for Bard as well.

After he had eaten his lunch and put away his dishes, he busied himself with housework. He was nothing if not clean. It was against Thranduil’s nature to live in a mess, so he made sure everything was spotless before Bard showed up tonight. The house had to be pristine. He swept and washed the floors, put away the clean dishes, scrubbed the countertops, straightened out the pillows on the couch and dusted the living room until the house looked like a show home in a magazine. Once Thranduil was done with the main floor, he headed up to his bedroom to make the bed and put all his clothes away neatly. Would Bard even see the bedroom? He didn’t want to think about that.

Thranduil proceeded to scrub down the bathrooms, washing mirrors and cleaning toilets until he was satisfied with his work.

He had worked up such a sweat cleaning the house that he figured he’d need another shower. So he went back to the bathroom and this time decided to wash his hair meticulously. He lathered up the long tresses with purple shampoo, rinsed and repeated the process a second time before he slathered a purple mask into his hair and let it soak in for a few minutes while he washed his body. Once all the purple products had rinsed down the drain, Thranduil got out of the shower and dried himself off. He plugged in the hair dryer and set to fixing his hair. Once his hair was tamed, he added a bit of product to keep any frizziness at bay and checked the clock for the time.

It was just past four. Thranduil’s heart rate increased when he realized that Bard would be arriving in a little over two hours. He didn’t bother dressing yet; instead he wrapped himself in his robe and decided that he would deal with his outfit later. He looked at himself in the mirror, grimacing when he let his eyes linger on the bruise on his face. It wasn’t as bad as it had been two days ago, but it was still noticeable and would most likely raise questions he didn’t want to answer. It crossed his mind to cover the bruise with makeup, but he didn’t have makeup and he had no time to go out and get any, so he would just have to deal with whatever questions Bard would ask him. What would he say; that he had fallen down the stairs, or walked into a door? Then he would just seem clumsy, but if he said he had fallen when he was drunk he would seem like an irresponsible alcoholic. And Thranduil was neither clumsy nor an alcoholic. He pushed his worry aside and hoped Bard wouldn’t make a fuss about it.

He sighed and went down to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. He was going to make lasagna; everyone liked lasagna, especially with lots of cheese. He just hoped Bard wasn’t lactose intolerant, or a vegetarian. He scolded himself for not thinking to ask any of these questions earlier. He could just make a meatless lasagna, but he figured if Bard was vegetarian then he would have mentioned it. Since Bard had said nothing about dietary restrictions, Thranduil went ahead with his original plan.

Thranduil cooked the filling for the lasagna, put it all together and set it into the fridge for later. He would only put it into the oven once Bard arrived. Then he prepared a salad, made a homemade dressing and set that into the fridge as well. He got the dessert he had bought at the bakery out of the pantry and set it on the table. Raspberry pound cake dusted with icing sugar; how could anyone resist? He checked the freezer to make sure he had the vanilla ice cream to go along with the cake, and then he went down into the wine cellar to pick out what they would be drinking for the night. Once he made his decision, he brought the bottle of wine up to put in the chiller.

Finally, Thranduil was able to go upstairs to get changed. What was one supposed to wear on a date in their own home? Thranduil knew right away what kind of pants he would wear. He knew what looked good on him. So he chose a pair of fitted black velvet jeans, not too flashy, but just the right amount of class. He wanted Bard to have something nice to touch if it got to that.  He dug through his dresser drawers, unhappy with what he found, so he moved into the closet. Maybe he would have better luck there. He didn’t want to end up overdressing, or appear as though he was trying too hard. This was meant to be casual, so he grabbed a knitted sweater with black, grey and burgundy stripes. He went to reach for his favourite cardigan, but resisted. It would be too much. He didn’t want to look like a bum, as Legolas put it. He put on a pair of black wool socks, rolled up his sleeves to the elbow, and checked himself over in the mirror before he headed back down stairs.

He paced around the house for a while, straightening things out along the way. He couldn’t stop his heart from beating; it felt like it was about to pound out of his chest. He really shouldn’t be this nervous. He took a few deep breaths, sat on the couch, only to get back up and continue his pacing. It was almost six o’clock now. Should he text Bard, or would Bard text him when he was on his way? Thranduil’s head was filled with jumbled thoughts and worries. How would the night go? Would it be awkward because of their flirty texts? What does Bard expect of him? Would he get the chance to kiss Bard tonight, or would that be inappropriate on the second date? People kissed on first dates, didn’t they? He told himself over and over that he would not initiate anything. If Bard wanted to kiss him, he would.

Thranduil groaned in anticipation. The time seemed to slow down but his mind only sped up. God, he felt like a teenager again. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been this nervous and excited about something.

He looked upward at the ceiling. “Please, Em, don’t let me fuck this up.” He muttered, hoping his wife was somewhere watching over him, making sure he didn’t royally embarrass himself.

Just then, his mobile buzzed on the coffee table, causing him to sit upright, frantically grabbing the device and looking at the screen. Oh God, Bard was about to leave. He sent a text back and sat his phone on the arm of the couch.

“Don’t be so fucking nervous, he’s just a person.” Thranduil said aloud to himself. “Just a person.”

Thranduil stood up, pacing much quicker than he had been before. He reminded himself not to randomly let any swear words slip out while he was talking to Bard. He knew he had a bad habit of adding ‘fuck’ or ‘fucking’ into his sentences when they had no place being there.

Unable to settle his nerves, Thranduil went to retrieve the wine from the chiller. He uncorked it with ease and poured himself a glass then chugged it back, emptying the glass in mere seconds. Hopefully the wine would help calm him. He glanced at the clock on the stove, seeing that it was now six-twenty one. His hands started to shake, but he filled his glass again.

The urge to have a cigarette hit Thranduil like a ton of bricks. God, he craved it. It had been years since he felt like he needed a nicotine rush to help relieve his stress, but right now the idea was far too tempting. He didn’t usually keep cigarettes in the house, but he knew Galion had unfinished packs lying around. There was one upstairs in the bedroom. He could go get it and have a quick smoke in the backyard…

But, no. What if Bard kissed him? He didn’t want to taste like an ashtray, so he managed to resist the urge.

He sat on the stool at the island counter, his foot tapping against the floor tiles as he inhaled sharp breaths. The shrill sound of the doorbell caused his heart rate to double and his palms to start sweating. Oh god. Bard had arrived. He clutched the stem of the wine glass, afraid it may shatter in his hand and forced himself to get up and go answer the door.

He strode to the door, wine glass in hand, a spark of confidence fighting its way to the surface to drown out his anxiety. He unlocked the door and then opened it slowly to see Bard standing before him, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket. He smiled when their eyes met.

“Hey, you. Come in out of the cold.” Thranduil greeted, stepping aside so Bard could enter the house.

“Hey. Thanks.” Bard replied, stepping into the house gingerly, eyes darting around at the sight before him.

Thranduil badly wanted to reach out and touch his hair; it looked so soft and fluffy. He wanted to run his fingers through it like they had been talking about in their text conversations. Bard looked absolutely delicious, despite the…wait, what was that? A bruise on his face? Just like Thranduil’s, except smaller. Thranduil swallowed his concern, reaching out for Bard’s coat as he slipped it off.

“Here, let me take your coat.” Thranduil offered, setting down his glass and taking Bard’s coat once he had removed it. He hung it up in the closet and turned back to face Bard with a smile.

“Thank you. You want me to take off my boots?” Bard asked, already slipping them off his feet.

“Sure, whatever makes you comfortable.”

“I can take them off.” He set his boots on the rack beside Thranduil’s awful Uggs, causing Thranduil to cringe internally when Legolas’s words replayed in his mind.

“So you didn’t have a problem getting here?”

“Nope, the GPS didn’t fail me this time.” Bard chuckled, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as Thranduil led him towards the kitchen.

“Good. Would you like some wine?”

“Yeah, sure.” Bard was still looking around, making appreciative noises once they entered the kitchen. “This house is insane!” he finally said.

“Is it?” Thranduil asked, amused by Bard’s enthusiasm.

“It’s massive. Holy shit.”

Thranduil laughed.

“And so clean. Don’t tell me you have a housekeeper.”

“I don’t. I do all the cleaning.” Thranduil told him, as he retrieved the bottle of wine from the chiller.

“Very thoroughly, too, it seems.” Bard remarked as Thranduil poured a glass of wine and offered it to him.

“I don’t like a mess. So I try to keep everything as neat as possible.” Thranduil’s heart picked up when Bard took the wine glass and their fingers touched. Bard smiled at him and took a sip of the wine.

“Mmm, this is good.”

“You like it?”

“Yes. Been a long time since I’ve had wine. But I can’t drink too much, I’ve got to drive, don’t forget.”

“Of course. I promise I won’t get you drunk.” Thranduil smirked.

Bard sipped on his wine while Thranduil preheated the oven.

“So what are we having for dinner?” Bard inquired, leaning onto the island counter. God, he looked good when he leaned. It was a sort of rugged elegance, something Bard didn’t even seem to be aware of. It took Thranduil’s breath away.

“I made lasagna, I hope you aren’t lactose intolerant or a vegetarian, I should’ve asked you earlier, but I forgot…”

“I love lasagna, and I eat meat and I tolerate the lactose quite well.”

“Thank god. I was worried.”

“Don’t be worried. If I were any of those things I would’ve let you know.” Bard said, taking another long sip from his glass.

Thranduil hummed, losing himself in the vision of Bard languidly sipping at his wine. He had amazing forearms. The urge to touch Bard’s hair returned and Thranduil was helpless to stop it. He stepped forward cautiously and locked eyes with Bard. Bard was smirking at him as he approached.

“What?” Bard chuckled.

“I just want to…” Thranduil trailed off, bringing his hand up and gently brushing his fingers through the locks of Bard’s hair. Bard closed his eyes and hummed, his smile growing wider.

“So do I.” He murmured, opening his eyes and gazing at Thranduil.

Before Thranduil knew it, Bard had his fingers in Thranduil’s hair, running them through the silky tresses a few times before giving a light tug and pulling his hand away. Thranduil followed suit, lowering his hand from Bard’s hair and the two grinned at each other for a few long seconds.

“So soft.” Bard crooned, bringing the wine glass up to his mouth.

“Yours, too.”

Thranduil stepped away almost shyly and opened the fridge door to take out the lasagna and transfer it to the oven to cook. He could feel Bard’s eyes on his back as he bent over to slide the lasagna into the oven. He set the timer and spun around to face Bard.

“So, is the artiste going to show me his work?” Bard asked, now sitting on the stool, one leg dangling and the other planted on the floor.

“Sure. Would you like to see it now?”

“Yeah, let’s do it. Where do you paint?”

“I have a studio in the basement. Come.” Thranduil motioned for Bard to follow as he made his way to the stairs. He felt a little self conscious about showing his artwork to Bard, which was unusual for him. Normally Thranduil had no problem with people viewing and criticizing his work; it was something he was used to.

“This should be interesting.” Bard commented as he stepped down the stairs behind Thranduil.

“So, what kind of art do you like?” Thranduil asked as they walked down the short hallway which led into Thranduil’s studio.

“I honestly don’t know much about art, so I can’t say what style I like, but I know what I like when I see it. Anything that can hold my attention for longer than a few seconds.” Bard said, as Thranduil flicked on the light switch, the room becoming brightly illuminated.

“I hope I can hold your attention for longer than that.” Thranduil said as he stepped out of the way for Bard to enter behind him.

“Much, much longer than that.” Bard grinned at him.

Bard made a sudden noise of astonishment as his eyes gazed upon the room before him; the stark white walls reflected the light, causing him to squint slightly. “Oh.” He gasped, taking in the sight of the massive floor length canvas that had been propped against the wall.

Thranduil had old bed sheets strewn about the floor near the walls where he worked, littered with dozens of half finished canvases, some almost complete, others still in the beginning stages. There was a small fold-up table near the easel which held various sized paint brushes, palettes and empty cartons. And there was a large table near the far wall containing various tools that Thranduil used to create his abstracts. Most of the implements he used were squeegees. He even had an old saw, and a very strange looking homemade tool, which was essentially a bunch of hardware store paintbrushes hammered together onto a long strip of wood. There was a box of blue latex gloves and a few rolls of saran wrap on the end of the table beside half used tubes of paint and a jar of linseed oil.

Bard walked over to the table with all the strange equipment as Thranduil smiled at the expression he was receiving.

“What’re all of these for?” Bard asked, pointing to the squeegees.

“For the abstracts. I like to drag the paint.” Thranduil told him.

“And this?” Bard gestured towards the odd-looking homemade apparatus.

Thranduil chuckled. “Oh, that thing? I made that. One paintbrush wasn’t enough. I have to get inventive. I’ve seen other abstract artists using that trick, so I made one for myself.”

“Ah. MacGyver.” Bard laughed. “What is the plastic wrap for?”

“Texture mostly, or sometimes I will put pieces down, paint over them and remove the wrap when the paint is almost dry. Creates an interesting effect.” Thranduil explained.

“Show me some paintings, then.” Bard suggested, looking in the direction of where all the canvases were laid out.

They went over to stand in front of the few paintings that Thranduil was currently working on.

“None of these are finished yet.” Thranduil said. “The ones that I’ve completed are in that room there.” He pointed to a door near the corner of the room.

“But these look amazing.” Bard gaped in awe. “So much life and movement. That one looks like a winter forest in the middle of a snow storm.”

Thranduil smiled. “That’s the beauty of abstract, everyone sees something different.”

“What is it supposed to be?”

“It is whatever you want it to be.”

“And this one looks like an apocalyptic city in the eighteenth century.”

 “You’re imagination impresses me.” Thranduil laughed.

“I like to dissect things. It’s what I do.”

“What is this one, then?” Thranduil asked.

“That is…two people caught in a hailstorm in the middle of spring…with their groceries.” Bard explained with a serious look on his face.

Thranduil snorted. “Groceries?”

“Yeah, that’s the lettuce right there, and there’s an apple, and that could be scrambled eggs.”

Thranduil had to hold back another laugh; he was thoroughly enjoying Bard’s explanation of what he saw in Thranduil’s paintings.

“I’m really impressed though.” Bard said. “Each one is so different, yet they are still so…you. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Yes, they are me. Different moods, different thoughts.”

“How did you feel when you painted this one?” He pointed to the most recent painting Thranduil had been working on.

“That one…” Thranduil thought for a moment. “Rage. Anger. Revenge. Destruction.”

“I can feel it. It really comes through.”

“I’m glad you can feel it. And the funny thing is, someone else might look at it and see happiness.” Thranduil mused.

“God, you are seriously talented. I didn’t think you’d be this good, but damn, you’re even better than I imagined.”

Thranduil twirled a piece of hair between his fingers, looking to the ground. He could feel the heat on his cheeks; he knew he was blushing like a fool. “Thank you, Bard. That is the greatest compliment. Especially since not many people like abstract work.”

“Well, they’re idiots, and I’m sure if they saw yours they’d change their minds.”

“Some even say that a child could do it.” Thranduil said, recalling Galion’s words.

Bard snorted. “That’s ridiculous. I can see the amount of talent needed and the effort it takes to create something like this.”

“I’m glad you think so. That is very kind of you to say.” Thranduil smiled. He was warm all over, feeling like he was suddenly overheating in his sweater. He couldn’t deny that he was pleased with Bard’s approval of his work.

“It’s only the truth.” Bard murmured, before he began perusing the room, inspecting the other few paintings he had not already seen.

Thranduil let Bard look around, not moving from where he was standing. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, absently swirling the wine in his glass. He noticed that Bard’s glass was empty and took it as a good segue to lead them back upstairs. Although it made him happy that Bard was appreciating his work, this room still made him slightly nauseous, and he longed to be free of its confinement.

“Come. Let’s go back upstairs.” Thranduil said, rousing Bard from whatever thoughts he was lost in.

“But you didn’t show me the finished ones, yet.”

“Another time. Dinner will soon be ready and we both need a refill.” He said, holding up his almost empty glass.

Bard chuckled. “Okay, sounds good to me.”

They made their way back upstairs, and Thranduil could feel the heat from Bard’s body so close behind him as they padded into the kitchen.

“Ten minutes.” Thranduil announced after checking the timer near the stove. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Oh, I am. All I had today was a measly sandwich.”

“You need to eat more than that, Bard. You will wither away with all the hard labor you do.”

“I’ll survive.”

“You will now that I’m feeding you.”

“Something I am very grateful for.” Bard smiled.

Thranduil smiled back and proceeded to pour another glass of wine for both of them, before putting the bottle back into the chiller.

When the food was ready, Thranduil plated it and took out the salad and dressing to set onto the table. He motioned for Bard to sit down and he soon followed. They exchanged small smiles as they dished up salad onto their plates before they began to eat. Bard ate a lot faster than Thranduil did, almost as if he had never seen food before in his life. He complimented Thranduil’s cooking skills over and over, making Thranduil blush, because he really didn’t think he was that great a cook. But then again, he never really had anyone’s opinion to go on but Legolas’s, who would pretty much eat anything.

Bard slowed down, eating in time with Thranduil as they settled into comfortable conversation. Thranduil had of course noticed Bard’s accent when they met, but never brought it up until now. He had been right when he guessed it was Welsh. Bard told him how he was born in Wales, but moved here when he was a teenager so he had lost most of his accent. Thranduil could still hear it clearly and he liked it. It was very soothing on the ears. He could listen to Bard talking for hours and never get bored of hearing that beautiful lilting accent.

Thranduil told Bard that he was of Swedish descent - both parents were from Sweden and he was born there, but they left the country when Thranduil was only a few years old. He grew up speaking Swedish with his parents, but quickly learned English once he started school. Bard was curious, asking him if he could still speak it, but Thranduil blushed and told him his Swedish was far too rusty to sound good. Which of course, was not true, Thranduil was just too shy to speak it in front of Bard. Maybe he would in time.

They talked about their children, all the ridiculous things they did and said, the schools they went to, their interests and hobbies. Bard asked Thranduil more about his painting and Thranduil asked Bard about his work as a mechanic. Being an auto mechanic wasn’t something Bard really enjoyed doing, but it was a job, he was good at it, and it earned him a paycheck. They talked more about Bard’s interest in archery and Thranduil insisted that Bard teach him one day. Bard obliged as long as Thranduil didn’t laugh at him for being so out of practice.

Thranduil learned that Bard enjoyed singing and used to play the guitar, but over the years he stopped playing for one reason or another. Thranduil encouraged him to get back into it, that it was important to do the things that made you happy.

After they had finished their meal, Thranduil presented Bard with the raspberry pound cake and watched Bard’s eyes light up. Apparently, Bard had a sweet tooth as well. They ate their dessert mostly in silence, savoring the deliciousness of the cake. Thranduil offered Bard a second piece which he at first declined, but then accepted once Thranduil indulged in a second piece, too.

Thranduil was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to talk to Bard. He didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. It was nice to be able to be himself and get to know Bard on a more personal level.

Once they finished dessert, Thranduil cleared the table, insisting that Bard stay seated. He wouldn’t have a guest cleaning up. He offered Bard some tea instead of wine, seeing as Bard would have to drive home. Thranduil stuck to the wine. He was feeling slightly buzzed now and the swirling in his head made him bolder. After Thranduil poured Bard’s tea, he suggested that they go into the living room.

 “So, where is Legolas tonight?” Bard asked, taking a seat on the couch next to Thranduil. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his body swaying the slightest amount as he eased closer to Thranduil.

Thranduil leaned back, crossing one leg over the other as he made himself comfortable. “A friend is watching him tonight.”

“Not with his mother?” Bard asked. Thranduil swallowed at the mention of Legolas’s mother. He knew it was bound to come up in conversation, but it still managed to throw him for a loop nonetheless.

“No.” Thranduil began, not knowing whether or not to tell Bard the truth. “His mother, my wife, died a few years ago.”

Bard eyes widened for a fraction of a second before turning sympathetic. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. That was stupid of me.”

Thranduil couldn’t help but chuckled at Bard’s rambling. He noticed that Bard tended to go off on a tangent whenever he was anxious. “It’s okay, Bard.” Thranduil swirled his glass, watching the funneling motion of the wine.

Bard reached out a hand and gingerly placed it over Thranduil’s. Thranduil’s eyes immediately snapped away from his wine glass as he gazed into Bard’s.

“Thank you.” Thranduil said, barely a whisper.

Bard’s thumb rubbed over the back of Thranduil’s hand before he gave a light squeeze and pulled away.

“Can I ask you something?” Bard ventured, his expression shifting, his brows knitting together in concern. Thranduil was worried what he was going to be asked, but for the first time in ages, he felt safe, like Bard was someone he could trust.

“Yeah?”

“Well, when we were in your studio, you had your sleeves rolled up and I-I noticed that--”

Thranduil cut Bard off before he could finish, knowing exactly what was going to be said.

“It’s nothing.” Thranduil evaded.

“Your wrists are bruised.” Bard said. “And--”

“I just fell down the stairs.”

“Falling down the stairs doesn’t cause bruises like that.”

“It’s – I—” Thranduil stammered. He had no idea how to protest to that. What was he supposed to say?

“Who did that to you?” Bard pressed, eyes boring into Thranduil’s.

Thranduil averted his gaze, unable to find the words. He stuttered, hand gripping the stem of the wine glass.

“My ex hit me a lot.” Bard blurted out, pointing to his cheek. “Oh, god. I can’t believe I just said that.” Bard let out a sigh, burying his face into his hand.

“Well…I’m glad you did. Because, it happened to me, too.” Thranduil spoke before he even realized what he was saying. He had just confessed. And oddly enough, he felt a weight off his shoulders.

Bard looked up, reaching a hand over as he brushed the back of his fingers gently against Thranduil’s cheekbone. “Is that how you got this?” Thranduil gulped, flinching a little.

“Hey, it’s okay. I won’t ever hurt you.” Bard reassured him, his hand moving from Thranduil’s face to his hair. Bard’s fingers stroked through the tresses and Thranduil leaned into the touch.

Never before had anyone touched him so tenderly, with so much kindness and compassion.

Bard slid closer to Thranduil letting the hand in Thranduil’s hair fall away slowly, snaking his arm behind Thranduil and holding him. Bard set his teacup onto the coffee table and rubbed his hand in soothing motions over Thranduil’s back as Thranduil leaned in, savouring the feeling.

“He is very violent.” Thranduil said, unsure where the sudden urge to indulge Bard in his issues came from. “He never stops, it just keeps getting worse. And I-I’m scared. Not only for myself, but for my son. I don’t know what he will do. I thought I was the only one.”

“You’re not. You’re not alone.” Bard whispered into Thranduil’s hair as Thranduil rested his head in the crook of Bard’s neck.

“Thank you, Bard.” He mumbled. He placed his hand onto Bard’s thigh gingerly, seeking out the warmth of Bard’s body. It felt nice to just let himself be held.

“You don’t deserve this. I hope you know that. No one deserves to be abused.” The heat of Bard’s breath was warming up Thranduil’s hair and he let him wrap one arm around Bard’s waist ever so slowly after he placed his wine glass on the table next to Bard’s cup of tea.

“I know.” Thranduil breathed.

“When did it happen?” Bard asked, still holding Thranduil, their bodies rocking slowly to the sound of their heart beats.

“Friday night.”

“After our date?” Bard made a noise of realization. “That call you got…”

“Yeah, that was him.” Thranduil admitted.

“Oh, Thran.” Bard cooed, and Thranduil felt a kiss being pressed to the top of his head.

Thranduil hummed, pulling back just enough so that he could look at Bard’s face.

“And what happened to you?” He asked, running his fingers over the small scratch on Bard’s right cheek.

“My wife, or ex-wife, or soon-to-be ex-wife backhanded me in front of the children.”

Thranduil gasped and shook his head. He let his fingers trail down Bard’s jaw and along his neck before coming to rest on Bard’s shoulder. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry that happened.”

“It’s alright. It wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s still not right.”

“I know.” Bard had both arms now wound around Thranduil’s body, their faces mere inches apart.

Thranduil breathed in through his nose and dropped his head down so that his forehead was pressed against Bard’s shoulder. He stayed like that for a few long moments, breathing in and out, letting the feeling of Bard’s hands on his back relax him. As he tilted his head slightly, one of Bard’s hands began stroking the ends of his hair, fingers entwining in the silken strands.

Without thinking, Thranduil pressed a kiss into the crook of Bard’s neck, against the heat of his skin, drawing a small sound from Bard’s throat. Thranduil could feel the vibration on his lips as he kissed the same spot again. God, he wanted to kiss more of Bard. He craved it.

Bard’s hand abandoned Thranduil’s hair as two fingers found their way under Thranduil’s chin and tilted his head upward. Their eyes locked and Bard bit his bottom lip. It was not meant to be seductive but Thranduil couldn’t help but feel a tingle run through his entire body at the thought of what Bard’s lips would taste like.

Bard held Thranduil’s face close, the feeling of warm fingers stroking his skin caused Thranduil’s breath to catch. He angled his head downward, blinking slowly before he felt lips press to his forehead.

“You’re beautiful.” Bard whispered, running his hands down the length of Thranduil’s neck.

Thranduil inched his face closer to Bard’s, letting his lips linger before pressing them against the bruise on Bard’s cheek. “You are, too.” He mumbled into the heat of Bard’s skin.

Slowly, they turned until their noses brushed together and before Thranduil knew it, Bard’s lips had found his and a soft whimper escaped him. His fingers clutched Bard’s shoulders before moving up and weaving into all that dark hair. Thranduil kissed Bard gently, small pecks, over and over until he caught his breath and pulled back to gauge Bard’s reaction.

Bard smiled at him and closed his eyes, leaning in to kiss Thranduil again and without hesitation Thranduil reciprocated his kisses with more fervor. God, how amazing it was to finally be able to feel those soft lips against his own.

Thranduil’s breath grew heavier as their lips slotted together so easily, again and again, until Bard picked up the pace. Thranduil got bold, nipping on Bard’s lower lip which elicited a groan from deep in Bard’s throat.

Suddenly, Bard pulled away, breathing unevenly as he looked into Thranduil’s eyes. Thranduil sighed and stroked the back of his hand over Bard’s face while Bard gathered Thranduil’s hair to push it back over his shoulder. Bard must have noticed the bruises on Thranduil’s neck as he made a noise of concern. Thranduil tilted his head to the side in an attempt to cover the bruises littered over his neck, but Bard stopped him, cupping his face with a gentle touch and bringing his lips to the mark on Thranduil’s face where he left a tender kiss. Bard smiled at him and pulled back, holding onto Thranduil’s hand as he lifted the wrist of Thranduil’s left arm to his lips, kissing the bruise there, before kissing the wrist of his other arm. Thranduil was staring at Bard while he did this, feeling a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. Is this what it’s like to feel safe with someone?

Bard let go of Thranduil’s arms as he entwined his fingers into long blonde hair. He leaned in, and brushed his nose against Thranduil’s neck. He nuzzled his face against Thranduil’s skin for a few seconds before peppering kisses over each bruise with care.  

“These, “Bard kissed Thranduil’s neck again, “are the only marks I will ever leave on you. And I’ll leave as many as you’ll let me.” He inhaled softly, trailing his kisses up to Thranduil’s jaw.

Thranduil hummed, he didn’t know how to respond to such words. He wasn’t used to being spoken to this way. So he responded by grasping the back of Bard’s neck and kissing him again. Their lips moved together in synchronization while Bard’s hand kneaded Thranduil’s thigh. Thranduil moaned when Bard’s tongue ran across his lips and he opened his mouth, letting their tongues meld together.

With their arms wrapped tightly around one another, their kisses grew more passionate until Bard pulled Thranduil’s legs over his. Thranduil smirked against Bard’s lips, lifting himself so that he could sit on Bard’s lap. Bard’s kisses moved from Thranduil’s lips to his jaw and then to his neck as they rocked slowly in each other’s embrace. Keen hands were running through Thranduil’s hair as Thranduil brought both hands to Bard’s face, letting his thumbs trace over Bard’s lips. They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the closeness of their bodies as they exchanged heated kisses.

“God, you are amazing.” Bard gasped between kisses. “I could drown in you.”

Thranduil grinned in approval. He could let himself get lost in Bard’s touch for hours. “And, I would let you.” He said, pressing another kiss to Bard’s lips before pulling back and staring into those beautiful hazel eyes. Thranduil closed his eyes, sighing. “I forgot what this felt like.”

“So did I.” Bard agreed.

Thranduil slid back onto the couch, his legs still draped over Bard’s lap as he leaned back into the cushions. Bard’s body followed his, one hand still holding the back of Thranduil’s head while the other stroked Thranduil’s arm in languid motions. Their chests were pressed together and Thranduil could feel the heat of Bard’s body enveloping him. He leaned up to capture Bard’s mouth in his and felt Bard smiling against his lips. He smiled back, enfolding his arms around Bard’s waist as he deepened their kisses.

Bard kissed his way down Thranduil’s neck, licking and nipping at his sensitive skin. Thranduil sighed, letting the feeling of pleasure wash over him. In Bard’s arms he felt safe and secure, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

“No one has ever been so kind to me.” He murmured as Bard brought his lips back to Thranduil’s, kissing them gently before speaking.

“You deserve to be treated with all the kindness in the world.” Bard kissed him again, long and deep, his tongue pushing into Thranduil’s mouth. Thranduil reacted by sucking on Bard’s tongue before pressing his own into Bard’s mouth.

“You amaze me, Bard.” Thranduil whispered against warm lips.

Bard pulled back and chuckled. “You amaze me, too.”

Thranduil smiled and then let his eyes dart around the room. How late was it? How long had they been lost in each other’s kisses?

“What?” Bard asked.

“What time is it?” Thranduil wondered.

Bard sat up and pulled his phone out of his pocket, grimacing at it. “It’s eight-forty.”

Thranduil groaned. He didn’t want this to end. But he knew it was better that it had.

“I should probably get going. I told the kids I’d be home before nine.”

“Mmm, yes. And Legolas will be home at nine, too.” Thranduil sat up, brushing his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth it out as best he could.

“Your hair looks fine. Not a strand out of place.” Bard grinned.

“Good. Yours is all in place, too.” Thranduil smiled, running a hand over Bard’s hair, pushing it out of his face. “Although, I do like it when it’s all messy.”

“I promise I’ll let you mess it up another time.” Bard smirked.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Thranduil got up from the couch, reaching a hand out to pull Bard up.

They walked to the door, hand in hand. Thranduil retrieved Bard’s coat from the closet, passing it to him as Bard was slipping on his boots.

Once Bard had his coat zipped up, he pulled Thranduil into a hug. They stayed like that for some time before Bard pulled back and sighed. “I guess I better go. I had a really good time with you tonight. Thank you for inviting me over.”

“I had a good time with you, too. I hope you’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Yes. Soon, I hope.”

“As soon as our schedules allow.” Thranduil smiled, weaving his fingers into Bard’s hair one last time.

Bard returned a smile and eased in to Thranduil’s touch, leaning in to kiss him before he had to leave for the night. “Thanks for dinner, doll.”

“Anytime. Thank you for being so kind to me.”

“Like I said, you deserve all the kindness in the world.”

Thranduil groaned. “I don’t want to let you go.”

“I know. I don’t want to go either.” Bard brushed a hand through Thranduil’s hair. “Call me tomorrow and we’ll figure something out, okay?”

“Mmm, yes. Sounds good.” Thranduil whispered before giving Bard a final goodbye kiss.

He opened the door for Bard and Bard made his way out to his car, looking back at Thranduil and smirking.

“See you later, beautiful. Have a good night.”

“You, too.” Thranduil called out. “Night.”

They waved to each other and Thranduil only closed the door once Bard had driven away.

God! What an absolutely perfect evening. Thranduil had never been on a date that went so smoothly. He’d never felt so at ease with someone in his whole life. Thranduil walked into the living room in a daze as he plopped himself down onto the couch where he had been kissing Bard only minutes ago. The memory was still so fresh in his mind; it played over and over in his head and he couldn’t help but smile.

Bard had been so slow and careful with Thranduil, his touches so tender, his embrace so gentle; it almost made Thranduil want to cry. Galion had never, ever treated him with such care or respect.

For the first time in a long time, Thranduil felt truly happy, like he could move on from all the pain Galion had caused him. He could have a future filled with the happiness he deserved. He didn’t have to suffer any longer.

He was finally ready to move on. Galion could never hurt him again. He wouldn’t allow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! :)
> 
> When do you think Galion is going to return? What's going to happen when he gets back?


	9. Vorfreude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard frets, Thran goes out, a meltdown occurs, and anticipation rises for the next date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this took so long! And it's only a filler chapter really. Sorry, I didn't have any days off last week so I couldn't write! But here it is! Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Oh, and this chapter alternates between Bard and Thran's POV. The next chapter will have alternating POV as well. But more than just Bard and Thran ;) *evil laugh*

Vorfreude (n.) - the joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures

* * *

 

 

There wasn’t any traffic on the way home, so Bard drove slowly, losing himself in his repetitious thoughts.  Over and over the image of Thranduil’s soft hair ran through his mind; the sensation of Thranduil’s lips still alive and burning on his skin. If Bard did not have children or responsibilities he could very easily spend all night in Thranduil’s embrace, sharing heated kisses and tender words. When was the last time Bard felt this way about another human being? He could not remember, nor did he care. Thranduil was the only one on his mind right now, the only one who had the ability to shake Bard’s resolve. This fact scared as well as excited Bard.

He checked the time as he pulled into the driveway, sighing in relief that he wasn’t late. The last thing he wanted was for the children to get worried or worse yet – suspicious. He was trying his best to keep his feelings for Thranduil to himself, buried within the depths of his mind, somewhere only he knew. It wasn’t something he needed to share with his children yet. If things happened to progress -- and he hoped they did -- then he would let them know. Bard would not feel right starting a relationship if the children were not comfortable with it; he needed their acceptance first and foremost. But despite his moral stance, Bard wanted to forget everything and dive in head-first. Thranduil awakened something in him; things he no longer believed he was capable of feeling.

Bard sat in the car, his steady breath the only sound filling the air. He enjoyed the peace and quiet. Once he got in the house, he knew he would be interrogated by the children. So he savoured the few minutes he had to collect his thoughts.

Spending the night with Thranduil had been wonderful, even better than Bard had expected it to be. He hadn’t imagined he would feel so comfortable with Thranduil so soon; he thought it would take much longer to reach that level of comfort. Nor did he expect to be kissing Thranduil the way they did. It was so unexpected, but Bard relished in it. God, those perfect lips against his own was just too much to bear. But those bruises. Bard sighed, shaking his head. How could anyone hurt such a kind and gentle person as Thranduil? What kind of a person would do such a thing? Knots formed in Bard’s stomach the longer he thought about it. Bard recognized that Madison had been abusive towards him, but the treatment that Thranduil had received seemed so much worse in comparison. It was not ideal to form a connection based on their abusive past relationships, but it was definitely something that helped to bring them closer and build trust. It was a shared experience, a shared understanding that they had, and Bard just hoped that Thranduil would be able to trust him.

But a singular thought gnawed away inside Bard’s mind. Was Thranduil still in a relationship? Was he currently with this abusive person who had hurt him? Bard cringed, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to be Thranduil’s _‘mistress’_ , so to speak. The thought grew more and more potent, causing Bard to doubt himself and everything that he believed was blossoming with Thranduil. Did the blonde just want a hook-up or some sort of distraction? 

He didn’t want to be Thranduil’s distraction. Bard grimaced, tapping his hands on his thighs. He wouldn’t accept what his mind was telling him, no, Thranduil couldn’t possibly just want to hook-up with him and then be done with it. Thranduil had confessed to Bard that he was scared. So even if he was still in a relationship, it was obvious he didn’t want to be. He was stuck. Still, it bothered Bard.

He hardly knew Thranduil at all, and now that he was thinking clearly and not trapped in a haze of passion on Thranduil’s couch, he could finally admit that he wasn’t sure if this was such a good idea. He needed to talk to Thranduil soon, possibly before bed if he could muster up the courage. Bard needed to know the truth before he ended up falling for Thranduil and getting his heart broken.

A knock from the living room window roused Bard from his worries. The silhouette of his eldest daughter caught his attention. He didn’t move, staring at nothing for a few seconds.

Another knock, followed by a shrug.

Bard sighed, pulling his keys from the ignition before sliding out of the car. Sigrid moved from the window, opening the front door before Bard had even reached the steps.

“Hey, Da.” Sigrid smiled at him, peering around the door as she opened it wider so her father could enter.

“Hey, Sig. Don’t tell me you’re just sitting around waiting for me.”

“It’s,” Sigrid glanced down at her mobile in her hand, “nine-ten. You’re late.”

“Only because I was sitting in the car for ten minutes.” Bard scoffed.

“Well? Did you have a good time?” Sigrid pressed, taking Bard’s coat from him as he removed his boots.

“Yeah, it was fine.” Bard replied with little enthusiasm. His mood was beginning to turn sour in response to all his worries.

“Just fine?”

“No, I had a good time.” Bard forced a smile.

“Okay, good.” Sigrid said in askance.

“Where’re Tilda and Bain?” Bard asked, changing the topic.

“Tilda just had a bath and is getting into her pajamas, and Bain…he’s in his room.” Sigrid sighed. “Like usual.”

“Yeah, he spends a lot of time holed up in his room these days.” Bard commented, as he took a seat on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

Sigrid sat down next to him after grabbing her backpack. She busied herself with organizing loose papers, putting them into the correct folders before she turned her gaze to Bard.

“You should talk to him.” Sigrid suggested.

“I’ve tried. He’s avoiding me. I think he just needs time to come to terms with everything. And we have to give him that time. When he’s ready, I’ll be here to talk to him. There’s no point in pushing. He’s still upset.” Bard reasoned.

“Yeah. You’re right. He is awful broody lately.”

“I know. That will pass.”

“I hope so.” Sigrid said, setting her bag onto the floor.

“Done your homework?” Bard asked as he flipped through the channels, finally settling on the news.

“Yeah. I finished everything that needs to be done for tomorrow. Still got some studying to do for the upcoming history test but I started making study notes.”

“Good for you. Study a little bit everyday and then you’ll retain the information better. Don’t cram it all into the night before the test.”

“I know, Da.” Sigrid rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna go shower now.”

“Okay. I’ll go get Tilda tucked in.”

With that both Bard and Sigrid headed up the stairs, Sigrid to the bathroom and Bard to Tilda’s room. He found Tilda on her bed playing with her stuffed animals. Her face brightened when Bard approached.

“Hey, honeybee.” Bard smiled. “All ready for bed?”

“Yes, Da. Had a bath and everything.”

“Good girl.”

“When did you get back?” Tilda asked, crawling under the covers.

“A few minutes ago. Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yup. Right after my bath.” Tilda wormed her way lower under the covers, cuddling her favourite stuffed unicorn.

“Good for you, honeybee.” Bard leaned over to give Tilda a kiss on the forehead.

Tilda reached a small hand up to Bard’s face, tracing her fingertips over the mark on Bard’s cheek. “Poor Da.” She crooned. “Let me kiss it better.”

Bard smiled and let Tilda press a chaste kiss on his bruise. “Thank you, sweets.” He pulled up the covers up and stroked Tilda’s hair softly. “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”

“Night, Da.”

Bard knocked on Bain’s door, but it looked like it was going to be another night of trying without much success. Apparently, Bain had last minute homework to finish up and didn’t have time to talk to Bard. After practically being pushed out of the doorway, Bard sighed and went into his room.

He shed his pants and socks, tossing them into the laundry basket, but kept on his shirt. He pulled the fabric to his nose and inhaled – it smelled like Thranduil. A warmth spread over Bard’s skin, a longing desire wrenching at his insides. Bard sniffed his shirt for a few seconds, aware of how stupid he probably looked, before removing it and throwing it in with the rest of his discarded outfit. He avoided the shower, not wanting to wash Thranduil from his skin; he would shower in the morning before work.

He needed to text Thranduil. Or call Thranduil more like it. This wasn’t a conversation to have through text messages. To make sure it would be alright calling Thranduil, he first sent a quick message.

[To: T] 10:31pm – Hey you awake?

Bard got into his sleep clothes while he waited for a reply, padded into the bathroom to brush his teeth and made his way back to bed. He was grateful to see that a new message awaited him.

[From: T] 10:33pm – Yup. :) I’m awake. Whats up?

[To: T] 10:36pm – Can we talk?

[From: T] 10:36pm – Yes, what about?

[To: T] 10:37pm – Do you mind if I call you?

[From: T] 10:38pm – Can I call you in 10? Legolas is being difficult and won’t sleep

[To: T] 10:39pm – Sure. Good luck.

Bard nestled back into his pillow, thinking about the words he and Thranduil had shared earlier that evening. Everything that had happened was such a blur. It was as if he was looking back on the events in someone else’s life, rather than his own. Did he really tell Thranduil he could drown in him? Bard exhaled an uneven sigh. God, he felt stupid. But his words were not lies; the things he had said to Thranduil were the truth. He really could drown in him; he could jump in and never look back. And maybe that was one of the reasons Bard was so hesitant now – besides not knowing if Thranduil was even single. That irked him the most. He hoped he could manage to alleviate the tension he felt without making Thranduil feel attacked. If he made Thranduil uncomfortable or pushed him, he could easily ruin what they had established so far. If all he could have with Thranduil was friendship, then he would take that.

The ringing of his phone jolted Bard into an upright position, hands groping the sheets in search of the device.

“Hello?” Bard answered.

“Hey.” Thranduil’s voice echoed in his ear. “So… what did you want to talk about?”

Oh, no. Thranduil sounded off. The teasing tone had vanished, leaving behind only apprehension. It wasn’t Bard’s intention to make Thranduil worry. He just needed more information.

“I just wanted to thank you for tonight. I had a really good time with you and I really want to get to know you better, but I need to know something…” Bard began, trailing off as he tried to figure out how he would put his words together.

“Yes…”

Bard took a deep breath. “Are you still in a relationship?” There was no other way to say it.

“No.” Thranduil replied, but it sounded more like a question than an answer.

“Who was the one who hurt you then?” Bard ventured, disregarding the clawing sensation in his chest.

Thranduil groaned. “My ex.”

“Oh. As long as you aren’t still together…”

“No. But unfortunately he’s an asshole and still enjoys bothering me from time to time. He just can’t take a hint...”

Bard hummed, hoping for Thranduil to continue.

“Honestly, Bard, I want nothing to do with him. And I have to admit…I really like you and I really want to get to know you better, too. I want to be able to move on, put his shit in the past.”

“That’s good to know. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.” Bard ignored the way his heart beat faster at Thranduil’s admission of liking him.

“I know. I won’t allow it anymore. I’ve even changed the locks at my house so he can’t get in.”

“That’s good. He has no right to hurt you like that.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t mention this early.”

“It’s alright; we did kind of get distracted.” Bard chuckled, recalling their passionate kisses.

“Yes, we did. I hope you believe me when I tell you that I like you and that I want something more than just some stupid fling.” Thranduil said.

“I like you, too. And a fling is the last thing I want.”

“Good. Now, will you tell me something?”

“Sure.”

“You said ‘soon-to-be ex-wife’, so does that mean you are technically still married?”

Bard grimaced. “Technically speaking, in the eyes of the law, I am still married. But the relationship is over. She is out of my life.”

“Okay.”

“Just okay?” Now Bard was worried that he sounded like a hypocrite. Fuck.

“Well, it’s not the most ideal situation, but I can work with it.” Thranduil admitted, voice becoming lighter.

“I’d like that. And I know it’s not the most ideal situation but I do really like you, and I would like to try, if you are willing.”

Thranduil hummed in approval. “I would like that. You are very kind, and I am not used to being treated the way you have treated me tonight. It was nice.”

Bard smiled, gripping the phone tighter. “It was nice. I’m not used to being treated with such kindness either. Even when I was with my wife, I still felt alone.”

“I know the feeling.” Thranduil sighed. “It is nice to be able to be touched without fear.”

“You will never have to feel fear when I touch you. Only comfort…and maybe pleasure. I would never, ever hurt you.”

“Thank you, Bard. You are almost too good to be true.”

Bard snorted. “Me? Nah, you are too good to be true. I still can’t believe you’re real.”

“I assure you, I am real.”

“Really beautiful.”

Thranduil laughed. “Oh, god. That was so bad.”

“I thought it was pretty smooth, no?” Bard chuckled.

“Maybe for someone who hasn’t flirted in years,” Thranduil teased, “but I do appreciate the sentiment. You are beautiful as well.”

“Thank you. And the only reason I haven’t flirted in years is because I had no reason to. Now I have reason to. I’ll have to improve my skills now that I’m trying to woo a gorgeous and talented artiste.”

“Oh, stop!” Thranduil laughed. “I’m going to blush.”

“I hope you do.”

Thranduil tsked a few times, and Bard could picture the blush creeping onto his cheeks. God, he probably looked so perfect all hot and flushed.

“So, what’re you doing now?” Bard asked.

“I’m in bed.” Now it sounded like Thranduil was smirking.

“Oh, early night?”

“Yeah, I’m exhausted. I’ll be up early tomorrow painting. What about you, what’re you doing?”

“I’m also in bed.” Bard said. “Except I’m not naked.” He shook his head at himself, wondering where he found the courage to say such a thing.

“You think I’m naked…”

“Are you?” Bard bit his lip. Did he really need to know the answer to that?

“Maybe.”

“Really? You sleep naked?”

“It’s more comfortable.” Thranduil reasoned.

“Don’t you get cold?”

“That’s what blankets are for.”

Bard pinched the bridge of his nose as a shaky laugh escaped his throat.

“What?” Thranduil chuckled.

“Now I’ve got the image in my head.”

“Of me naked in bed?”

“Yes.”

“Good. My plan has been successful then.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I don’t only paint pictures on the canvas; I like to paint them in your mind as well.” Thranduil chuckled.

“Then, yes, you’ve succeeded.” Bard smiled, suddenly feeling overheated under the covers.

“We should probably both get to sleep now. I hope I helped to ease some of your worry. I should’ve told you earlier…”

“No,” Bard interrupted, “I get it and I’m fine now. I just needed to know.”

“I understand.”

“Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself. Don’t let him hurt you again…” Bard felt foolish for saying such a thing, as if Thranduil really had a choice whether or not his ex hurt him. Obviously, he didn’t.

“I promise. If he tries anything I will call the cops. I’m done with it, I swear.”

“Good. So I’ll talk to you later. Thanks again for a good night.”

“My pleasure. Have a good sleep, Bard.”

“Thanks. You too, beautiful. Sweet dreams.”

“Night.” Thranduil murmured.

“Night.” With that Bard hung up and placed his mobile on the nightstand to charge.

He made sure his alarm was set before getting settled under the covers. Before he knew it, his thoughts of Thranduil became dull and hazy, quickly turning into pleasant dreams.

~ï•ï•ï~

Thranduil let his fingertips graze up the insides of his thighs as he focused on the rhythmic sound of his breath. God, how he wished it was Bard’s hands all over his body, instead of his own. It had been a long time since another human being had sparked such a reaction in him. He let one hand slowly move upward as he traced his fingers along his groin. He placed his hand on his cock, encircling it with loose fingers. He stroked himself a few times and then sighed, shaking his head before releasing his hold. What did he plan on doing? Was he really so desperate that he would jerk off under the covers while he thought of the way Bard had kissed him? He didn’t want it to all be over so quickly, he wanted so much more. When the time finally came, he wanted Bard’s hands on him, not his own.

Thranduil shut his eyes, steadied his breath and forced himself to sleep.

It felt like only minutes had passed since he had closed his eyes before the alarm was jolting Thranduil out of his sleep. He flung an arm out from under the covers to silence the blasted thing, his body relaxing once again after the sound had ceased. He stretched languidly and groaned when he realized, of course, he had awoken with an erection. He badly wanted to relieve himself of this problem, but he knew a cold shower could work wonders. For a few minutes, he stayed nestled in the warmth of the bed, unwilling to remove the covers and make the first move to get ready.

Eventually, he extracted himself from his nest, knowing that if he didn’t get up now then he would be rushing to get Legolas to the bus stop on time. He yawned as he made his way into the bathroom to wash up.

After he had pulled on fleece leggings and a sweater, he padded down the hall towards his son’s bedroom. The sight of Legolas already sitting up in bed startled Thranduil when he opened the door.

“Morning, leaf.” Thranduil said, sitting on the edge of Legolas’s bed while he pushed the stray hairs from his son’s eyes.

“Morning, Ada.” Legolas yawned, flopping back onto his pillow as he stretched.

“Ready to get up?”

“I don’t feel like going to school.” Legolas groaned, rolling around in a mess of sheets.

“I know. But you’ll have fun. Just gotta get some food in you. What would you like for breakfast?”

Legolas appeared to be deep in thought, pursing his lips as he let out a small humming sound. “Maybe toast, with peanut butter and nutella.”

“Okay, I can do that.” Thranduil got up and set Legolas’s outfit that they had picked out the night before onto his bed. “You get dressed and I’ll go make your breakfast, okay?”

“Okay.” Legolas replied, reaching for his clothes.

Thranduil headed down to the kitchen, wine glasses from the night before still on the counter. He grinned at the memory of Bard leaning against the counter. He put two slices of bread into the toaster and took the peanut butter and nutella from the pantry. Legolas appeared at his side as he finished spreading the nutella onto the toast.

“Mmm, thanks, Ada.” Legolas smiled, taking his plate of toast from his father and shuffling over to the table. “Can I have orange juice?”

“Of course.” Thranduil took the juice of out the refrigerator and poured a glass for his son, setting it on the table beside Legolas as he ate.

Thranduil packed a lunch for Legolas and set his lunch bag at the door beside his backpack. Once Legolas had finished eating his breakfast, he hurried up the stairs to brush his teeth before it was time to go out to wait for the bus.

“Should I wear these?” Thranduil teased, holding up his ratty Uggs.

“Ew! No.” Legolas groaned, drawing out each word. “Those are horrible!”

Thranduil shrugged. “I guess I’ll wear my other boots then.”

“Yeah, the black ones. They are nice.” Legolas nodded in approval.

They bundled up in their coats and scarves as they headed out to the bus stop. Within a few minutes the bus arrived and Legolas bounded up the steps, waving to Thranduil.

Thranduil walked back to the house, pondering how strange everything felt all of a sudden. It was as if happiness was trying to fight its way back into his life. Things at home were so much better without Galion there to dampen the mood. Legolas was actually spending time out of his room and Thranduil didn’t have to live in fear any longer. His date with Bard had gone splendidly, and their conversations were growing easier, but still leaving Thranduil breathless. He could hardly believe just how much kindness Bard had showered upon him, practically worshipping him for god’s sake. Thranduil scoffed when he made a mental comparison of how Galion treated him in contrast to how Bard treated him. It was like night and day.

He arrived back at the house, still deep in thought. How was he going to tell Galion that it was over when he returned on Sunday? He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Fuck.” Thranduil snatched his phone from his pocket and checked the time.

He contemplated texting Bard as a way to distract himself, but instead he went down into his studio to work. After so many years of being an artist, Thranduil knew that painting was the best way to distract himself from intrusive thoughts.

He eased out of his cardigan, tossing it over the back of a chair as he went to his work table to mix up some paint. Today, he would work on a small piece. So he fetched a new canvas and began applying gesso with a roller. While the gesso was drying, he went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and grab a quick bite to eat. Unlike Legolas, Thranduil couldn’t stomach food too early in the morning. He loved breakfast, but it had to be at least past nine a.m. before he could eat anything. Because he was so eager to paint, Thranduil didn’t make himself a big breakfast; he settled for fruit and a bowl of porridge. When the porridge was ready, he carefully made his way back to his studio, balancing his cup of tea and two bowls in his hands. He very rarely ate at the table. As soon as he put down the dishes, his mobile started to ring.

“Bloody hell.” Thranduil grabbed his phone from the work table, still clutching his mug in his other hand.

The caller ID told him that Lindir was calling, so he quickly answered, hoping for some good news.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Thranduil. How are you?” Lindir asked, his voice steady and calm as usual.

“I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you.” Lindir said, and then paused. Thranduil sighed impatiently, wondering why Lindir was calling him if he wasn’t going to say anything.

“So?” Thranduil began. “What do you want?” He cringed at his own voice, hoping he didn’t sound rude.

“I may have a job for you. I got a call from someone who is interested in your work, and he would like to set up a time to meet with you.”

“Oh, good. Give me the details.”

“His name is Thierry Durinson, big time banker in New York City, and he was interested in a painting of his ancestral home, or a certain landmark….some Mountain or something. You’ll have to speak with him about that. But, he’s in the city on business for a few weeks and wanted to meet with you as soon as possible. Someone referred him to your website, and I guess he likes your style…”

“Which style? I have a lot.” Thranduil interrupted.

“Impressionist. That’s what he said he wanted.”

“Okay, well let me check my schedule and see what will work.” Thranduil mused, not really bothering to check any schedule since he knew he was pretty much free the rest of the week.

“Does Friday morning work for you? He gave me a list of the times he is available.” Lindir went on.

“Yeah, Friday morning should be fine. Did he want to come here?”

“That would be preferable. Then you could show him your work and start up some sketches for him.”

“He knows how much I charge, right?”

“Yes, and he’s more than willing to pay.”

“Good. Call him back and tell him that Friday works. Give him my address and I will meet with him at whatever time. Just text me back with the details.” Thranduil instructed, pacing around the room.

“Yes, will do. Talk later.” Lindir said, ending the conversation.

Thranduil set down his phone and took a long sip of his tea. He smiled at the thought of getting to work on another commission. They always provided him with a challenge. He enjoyed collaborating with clients, sharing ideas and creative visions and then getting to see that idea come to life. That was the most rewarding part – creating something from nothing.

Thranduil ate quietly, drank his tea, and then skipped back up the stairs, unable to contain his delight. He was too excited to focus on his personal painting right now. He felt cooped up and badly wanted to make plans to get out of the house. The weight of Galion’s presence was beginning to lift, and Thranduil’s mood was improving more and more as time passed. Thranduil put his dishes into the dishwasher and called Haldir.

“Thran.” Haldir answered. “I’m at work.”

“Hello to you, too. And you’re not really working. You’re sitting at a desk pretending to look like you’re working.” Thranduil smirked.

“Maybe. What’s up?”

“Not much. I might have a job lined up, so that’s good news.”

“Good! Are you gonna tell me how your date went?” Haldir pressed.

“Maybe later. You wanna go out and do something tomorrow. I know you have Thursdays off. So I thought we should get out. Maybe grab lunch.” Thranduil suggested, well aware of how fast he was speaking.

“Yeah, I’m down.” Haldir said. “I know! We could go to yoga in the morning.”

“Eh, I haven’t gone to a yoga class in months.”

“C’mon Thran, you used to love yoga, and you were so good at it.”

“I might pass out.”

“Bullshit. C’mon!”

“Okay, maybe. I can check the schedule and see what classes there are tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, do that, and then text me back. I’m gonna get fired if I don’t hang up now. Boss is giving me the evil eye.”

“Okay, go. Don’t get fired.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” Thranduil hung up and immediately went online to look at the yoga schedule.

There was a Hot Yoga class at nine-thirty, Hatha at noon, and Vinyasa Flow at one-thirty. Thranduil opted for the hot yoga, not only because it was the earliest, but also because he enjoyed the heat. He liked the way he felt after a good sweat. It was exactly what he needed – to flush all the toxins and negativity from his body.

He texted Haldir and they agreed upon the nine-thirty hot yoga class. Thranduil made a mental note to do some stretches tonight before bed. He knew his flexibility had suffered in the months he stopped doing yoga, and he didn’t want to injure himself in class. He had a bad habit of pushing past his limits, leaving his body sore and aching the next day.

Feeling good about planning an outing, Thranduil went back to his studio to paint. The time flew by and before he knew it the alarm on his phone went off, letting him know that it was time to make his way out to the bus stop to get Legolas.

Thranduil bounded up the stairs, rushing into his bedroom to put on jeans and a sweater. He put on his black lace up boots and burgundy pea coat and went out to wait for the bus. He hoped his choice of clothing didn’t offend Legolas today, although it was funny when his son scrunched up his nose and made a face of disgust when Thranduil wore anything less than perfect.

On the short walk home, Legolas expressed his gratitude about the fact that Thranduil didn’t look like a ‘bum’ today. They shared a laugh when Thranduil told Legolas he had changed his clothes specifically for the trip out to the bus stop.

Once they got back to the house and were out of their coats, Thranduil put together a plate of cheese and crackers for Legolas to eat while he started on his homework.

“If you get it done now, you’ll have the rest of the night to do whatever you want.” Thranduil told him.

Legolas groaned, but sat down at the table anyway, pulling his worksheets from his bag.

While Legolas worked away, Thranduil started on dinner. He made a simple chicken recipe with basmati rice. He was too geared up to spend a lot of time cooking. After a half an hour the food was ready so Thranduil and Legolas ate dinner a bit earlier than usual. Once they finished, Thranduil cleaned up the kitchen and Legolas continued on with his homework.

Legolas finished without needing any help from Thranduil, and by six o’clock they were both in the living room in front of the TV. Legolas shared with Thranduil about his day and Thranduil told Legolas that he might have a new commission to work on soon if everything went well during his meeting on Friday. Legolas expressed his enthusiasm, but Thranduil knew he didn’t really understand anything about what Thranduil did for a living. Legolas just called it ‘getting paid to paint pretty pictures’. Technically, he was right.

After Legolas took a shower and got ready for bed, he stayed up in his room reading as Thranduil got out his yoga mat to begin his preparation for tomorrow’s class. He stretched first, feeling the burn in his muscles and then he moved on to basic sun salutations before going on to backbends and inversions. He was surprised that he could still hold his headstand without feeling too wobbly. The handstand was a different story, so he moved on from those quickly. He ended by doing more stretches just to make sure his body was well prepared. The movement woke his body up so he did a few sit-ups and push-ups before going up to tuck Legolas into bed. He impressed himself with his push-ups; anyone who thought he was weak was sorely mistaken.

After Thranduil had tucked Legolas in and bid him goodnight, he headed into his own room to get ready for bed.

Thranduil stripped himself of his clothing, relieved to finally be free of its confinement and settled beneath the covers. With his phone in hand, he began typing out a message to Bard and chuckled when he realized that Bard’s contact information was still saved under the name ‘Katie’; he would have to change that. He figured he would change it now, it’s not like Galion was going to be in his life anymore. And Bard was not a secret that he needed to keep. ‘Katie’ finally became ‘Bard’.

[To: Bard] 10:55pm – Hey handsome. Hope you had a good day today <3

He nestled back into the comfort of the pillows, letting his eyes fall shut. He smiled when his phone vibrated in his hand.

[From: Bard] 10:57pm – Hi beautiful. <3 My day was pretty good. Very tired tonight. How was your day?

[To: Bard] 10:58pm – Aw, darling, don’t work too hard. My day was rather uneventful. Got a call from my rep today, so I’ll hopefully have a new commission to work on soon. :)

[From: Bard] 10:59pm – Ohhh congrats, that’s good to hear :)

[To: Bard] 11:00pm – Thanks. Hopefully this client won’t turn out to be an ass!

[From: Bard] 11:01pm – lol, hopefully not! What’re you up to now?

[To: Bard] 11:02pm – Just in bed now. Gotta get up early tomorrow. What about you?

[From: Bard] 11:03pm – Same, in bed. What’s tomorrow?

[To: Bard] 11:04pm – Tomorrow is yoga ;)

[From: Bard] 11:05pm – Ooo very nice. Of course you do yoga.

[To: Bard] 11:06pm – lol, it’s been a while. Do I fit the yoga stereotype?

[From: Bard] 11:07pm – you look very limber lol

[To: Bard] 11:08pm – lol I hope I still am. I haven’t been in months

[From: Bard] 11:09pm – well that’s good that you’re going back. Are you going by yourself?

[To: Bard] 11:10pm – Going with my friend Haldir – the one who watched Legolas when we had dinner. I’ll be glad to get out. I’ve been cooped up for far too long.

[From: Bard] 11:12pm – good! Don’t coop yourself up. The world needs to be graced with your beauty

[To: Bard] 11:13pm – the world can’t handle me lol

[From: Bard] 11:14pm – lol! I’m not sure anyone can handle such perfection

[To: Bard] 11:16pm – omg. Perfection? Lies

[From: Bard] 11:17pm – no lies, only the truth! You make me very weak in the knees lol

[To: Bard] 11:18pm – You like to make me blush while I’m alone in bed, don’t you? Not that I’m complaining…

[From: Bard] 11:20pm – I do, I do. I bet you look beautiful blushing all alone in your bed. Dressed in nothing but that long hair ;)

[To: Bard] 11:22pm – Maybe one day you’ll get to witness it for yourself ;)

[From: Bard] 11:22pm – I would cherish every moment of it

[To: Bard] 11:23pm – as would i.

[From: Bard] 11:24pm – sorry, doll, I really need to sleep now, or I may never wake up tomorrow. :(

[To: Bard] 11:25pm – Yes, me too. Have a good sleep and I’ll talk to you later <3

[From: Bard] 11:25pm – Night, Thran. Sweet dreams. Ttyl <3

[To: Bard] 11:26pm – Night <3

Thranduil smirked. God, he _really_ liked Bard. He couldn’t help the blush from creeping onto his cheeks every time the man made an attempt to flirt with him. He could practically cut the sexual tension with a knife. It was almost too much to bear.

He plugged his phone in to charge and made sure his alarm was set. He nestled under the covers, wrapping his legs around one of the extra fleece blankets he slept with. With his muscles loose and relaxed from stretching and his mind at ease, sleep found him within minutes.

Thursday morning came, with the sun making an unexpected but much welcomed appearance. Thranduil stretched languidly in bed reveling in the sensation of the warmth of scattered sun rays across his skin. He yawned and checked the clock, surprised that it was just after six a.m. and he had actually roused before the alarm.

Rolling out of bed, Thranduil pulled up the blinds and tied the curtains to either side, letting the light fill the room. His steps were lighter today, and he lunged his way into the bathroom, doing whatever he could to help prepare his body for his return to yoga class. It had been far too long since he attended a class, and he worried that his practice would suffer for it. He did not want to embarrass himself.

His hair went up into a bun atop his head before he stepped into the shower. The heat of the water helped to loosen up his muscles and he stood beneath the steady stream for longer than usual. When he had finished and dried himself off, he strode over to his dresser to put on his yoga attire.

It was still early so Thranduil let Legolas sleep for a while longer before he would wake him. He went to the kitchen to prepare his son’s lunch and then thought on what he would make for breakfast. He wanted eggs for himself; he needed the protein boost, but he would inquire with Legolas first, to see if his son wanted something different.

He woke up Legolas when it was quarter past seven and was thankful when his son began getting ready without complaint. So far, the day was headed in the right direction. After Legolas had finished getting ready upstairs, he came down to the kitchen for his breakfast. Legolas agreed upon eggs so Thranduil began cooking. Once they had finished eating, Legolas helped Thranduil clear off the table before going to watch some TV; there was still half an hour before the bus would arrive.

Thranduil busied himself with cleaning the kitchen and before too long Legolas was approaching from the living room, telling Thranduil that it was time to go. They donned their outerwear but Thranduil skipped the scarf because the temperature outside was milder than it had been all week. It was a pleasant change.

After the bus came and Legolas was off to school, Thranduil walked back to the house slowly, soaking in as much sun as he could. He badly wanted winter to be over, but alas, it had only just begun. At least today it didn’t feel like winter; so he savoured it while he could.

When Thranduil got back home, he texted Haldir to let his friend know that he was ready. Haldir messaged Thranduil back immediately and offered to pick him up, which brought a sense of calm to Thranduil’s mind knowing he would not have to worry about driving. The last thing he needed was to get stressed out just before yoga. He was thankful for Haldir’s consideration.

Haldir picked Thranduil up a few minutes late, as was usual for him, but they arrived at the yoga studio with plenty of time to spare. The class went surprisingly well, and Thranduil found it much easier than he had anticipated to get back into the swing of things. He was pleased that he had properly stretched the night before, finding it easy to get into each pose and hold it for the appropriate length of time. It was nice to free his mind of all thoughts and just be present in the moment. He left the class feeling grounded and centered; it was a wonderful feeling and it was a push in the right direction. Although the past few weeks had been difficult with Galion, he felt a sudden shift; his life was getting back on track. He could take the reins; he could take back the control that he had relinquished for so long.

Thranduil and Haldir had decided upon Thai for lunch, so after they changed into clean, dry clothes, they walked to a little restaurant just down the street from the yoga studio. Back when Thranduil was heavy into yoga, he and Haldir would regularly stop for lunch at this particular Thai restaurant. It was a nice way to bring back happy memories and it felt like a routine Thranduil could easily fall back into.

“So?” Haldir began, “You’ve been dancing around the conversation all morning…”

“I’m not dancing around anything. What do you want to know?” Thranduil asked, taking a bite of his pad thai.

“Your date… Give me the details!” Haldir grinned, resting his elbows on the table and his chin into his palms.

“God. What do you want me to say?”

“What did you guys do?”

“Nothing.” Thranduil took another bite trying to avoid the question.

“Oh, c’mon! Don’t lie to me!” Haldir groaned, ignoring his food completely.

“I would never!” Thranduil feigned an appalled expression.

“So what does he look like? Is he hot? He must be, I know you, Thran, always going for the super attractive ones, am I right?”

“Aren’t you always right?” Thranduil snickered, rolling his eyes.

“I am, I am. Is he my type?”

“Pft! Who isn’t your type, really?”

“C’mon, Thran! Don’t be rude. I’m just curious. Describe him! Oh, do you have a picture?” Haldir’s voice grew bubblier by the second and he was practically on the edge of his seat.

“He’s tall, not as tall as me though, but not many people are…umm…he has hazel eyes--”

“Oh!” Haldir’s shriek cut Thranduil off mid-sentence. “You got a good look at his eyes then. You must’ve been pretty close!”

“Close enough.” Thranduil smirked.

Oh, hot damn! Did you kiss him? You did, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Jesus, Mother Mary and Joseph!” Haldir exclaimed. “Now I really need to see what he looks like. Text him now and get him to send you a picture!”

Thranduil laughed. He hadn’t realized how much he missed Haldir’s presence until now. It was nice to be able to spend time with his friend again and laugh.

“I am not getting him to send me a picture! That’s so weird. Just know that he is extremely attractive. Handsome in a rugged sort of way, dark shoulder-length hair, nice body…”

“Oh, does he have any tats?” Haldir questioned, eyes wide with wonder. He finally began eating his food but didn’t draw his gaze away from Thranduil.

“I don’t know.” Thranduil chuckled; he knew Haldir’s fascination with tattooed guys.

“Or are they in places only you got to see?”

“I haven’t seen anything!”

“You wouldn’t even tell me if you did.” Haldir said, swallowing his food before taking another mouthful.

Thranduil shrugged. “You’re right, I probably wouldn’t.”

“How do you know he has a nice body then?” Haldir asked, raising his eyebrows and shooting Thranduil a scandalized look.

“His clothes fit very nicely.” Thranduil reasoned.

“You haven’t seen him naked?”

“Of course not. What do you take me for?”

“Damn. Too bad. But you made out with him, right?” Haldir questioned, shoveling more food into his mouth.

“If you want to put it that way…”

“Don’t be such a grandpa! You fucked his mouth with your tongue, that’s what you did.”

“You’re so crass, so vulgar.” Thranduil made a face of disgust.

“I am who I am, and you love it.” Haldir grinned wide.

“I do.” Thranduil agreed, laughing. “You are very entertaining.”

“I know. I can always make you laugh.”

“It is true.”

“So you had a good time with him, right?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Then maybe you should ask him out again!” Haldir suggested with an animated expression.

Thranduil pursed his lips, frowning. “I want to, but I’m worried…”

“Why? Because of that fucktard Galion?”

“Yeah. Well, Bard called me after our dinner date because he was worried I was still in a relationship and I mean…I don’t know what is going on right now. I don’t want to be with Galion, not at all. But I haven’t actually broken up with him yet.”

“Ah, well, you need to get on that.”

“I know. I changed the locks and I packed his stuff, so hopefully he will leave without putting up a fight.”

“He fucking better or I’ll hog tie him and drag his ass away!”

Thranduil snorted. “I wish it were that simple. He went away on some ‘business venture’, as he put it. Who knows what he’s actually doing. I don’t even care; I just want him out of my life. He’s toxic.”

“Business venture? He doesn’t even work!”

“I know, he’s trying to appease me, and it’s not working. It will never work.”

“Good, don’t fall for it. It’s all bullshit. He is toxic, Thran. Tell him to fuck off when he gets back and go out with Bard! I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time and look at this,” Haldir made a sweeping gesture with both hands, “you’re actually out, doing something with little old me! So Bard must be making you happy.”

“He is making me happy. So should I call him when I get home? Ask him to do something?”

“Yes! Do it. And then send me a god damn picture!”

“I will do no such thing.” Thranduil grinned. “But I will call him tonight; see if he wants to go out for dinner or something.”

“Yes, out to a nice restaurant! And then back to your place, or his, afterwards… if you know what I mean.” Haldir winked, taking a drawn-out sip from his straw.

“He has kids, you know.” Thranduil stated, finishing off the last piece of chicken in his pad thai.

“Oh, how many?”

“Three.”

“And how old are they? How old is he?”

“He said they were…uh, eight, fourteen and sixteen--”

“Oh, god! Two teenagers. Don’t tell me you’re looking for a ‘daddy’!” Haldir gaped, opening his mouth wide in mock-horror.

Thranduil snorted. “No! I don’t think I’m into that. He can’t be much older than me. Maybe early thirties.”

“Okay, good. For a second I was getting the image of a middle-aged man in my head.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little age difference.” Thranduil scolded, grinning at Haldir’s expression. “But, I do not need a sugar daddy. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, you _are_ the sugar daddy.”

“Exactly. I’ve got the sugar.” Thranduil chuckled. “So, I’m going to ask him out tonight after dinner. Hopefully he will say yes.”

“Of course he will! You said it yourself, Thran. You’ve got the sugar and I bet Bard is craving a little sugar.”

“Oh, god!” Thranduil dropped his head into his hands. “I highly doubt I’ll be handing out sugar to anyone. Not yet at least.”

“Good. Keep him wanting more.”

Thranduil and Haldir kept up the light banter until they had both finished their lunch. After Haldir dropped Thranduil back off at home, he went down into his studio to keep his mind occupied as he thought of how he was going to ask Bard out.

~ï•ï•ï~

Bard had been having a horrible day at work. He got yelled at by his boss, who was apparently pissed that Bard had been leaving work early these days, when in fact he was leaving at the exact time his shift ended. His boss was just so used to him staying late all the time, that when he actually left on time it raised issues. Bard wasn’t in the mood for confrontation, so he took it all with a grain of salt, and left to pick up Tilda from her after school program.

They didn’t talk much on the way home, Tilda sat in the back seat and Bard had thought that she had fallen asleep. He didn’t mind the quiet though, he had nothing to say, and he didn’t want to accidentally snap at his daughter for nothing. He tried his best to shake the frustrations of the day from his mind before they pulled into the driveway.

Bard made dinner and only engaged in small talk when it was necessary. Sigrid was working on her homework at the kitchen table, helping Bard with meal preparation and setting the table without being asked. He was glad for the constant stream of support from his eldest, it meant more to him than he was able to express in mere words.

As Bard was cooking, he pushed his troublesome thoughts aside and focused on the one thing he knew was sure to distract him – Thranduil. He had been telling himself all day that he should call Thranduil tonight and ask him out on another date; now, the only thing he needed to do was gather the courage and do it.

Dinner was a more eventful affair than usual. It was proving impossible to get Bain out of his room to eat. Bard called him, then went up to knock on his door but when he was met with a grumbled disinterest, he told Bain he would leave his dinner in a Tupperware container in the fridge and he could eat whenever he was ready. Bard didn’t want to push his son; it was obvious that Bain was still hurt about what had happened with Madison. When Bain came around, Bard would be willing to talk to him.

After dinner, Bard finally had the chance to shower and wash his hair. After he had finished getting on his pajamas, his phone started ringing. A smile came to his face when he saw that Thranduil was calling. What perfect timing; he was planning on calling Thranduil in a few minutes anyway.

“Hello?” Bard answered with a grin.

“Hey.” Thranduil greeted. “How’re you?”

“I’m good, how about you?”

“Good, good. What’re you up to?”

“Not much. Just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Thranduil asked.

“Oh, you know, just this beautiful man that I had dinner with the other night.” Bard recalled.

“Oh? Tell me more.”

“Well he’s very, very attractive with the most stunning eyes I have ever seen.” Bard smirked as he thought about those expressive blue eyes staring into his.

“Mmm.” Thranduil hummed, as if he were lost in thoughts of his own.

“What about you? What’re you up to?”

“Oh, me? I’m thinking about this ruggedly handsome man who has completely taken my breath away.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, he has these gorgeous hazel eyes that I could get lost in, and he looks so good when his hair is messy and falling in his face.”

“Hmm.” Bard made an appreciative noise. “Nothing compared to the beautiful silk blonde hair that I had the pleasure of running my fingers through. Quite literally the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen, and touched, in my entire life.”

“Really? You like my hair that much?”

Bard smiled. “Yes. I do. All of you is beautiful, but damn, your hair, well I don’t even have the words.”

“Bard.” Thranduil purred. God, it had been a long time since Bard had heard his name spoken in such a seductive tone.

“Thranduil.” Bard said back.

“You are too nice. I don’t deserve such kind words.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You deserve all the kind words, more than I’m even able to come up with.”

“Aw, thank you. So do you.” Thranduil said, and then paused for a moment. “I, uh, wanted to ask you something…”

“Anything. I want to ask you something, too.”

“Okay, you first.”

“No, you go first.” Bard suggested. He wanted to know what Thranduil was going to ask him before he took the step to ask about the possibility of another date.

“Okay. Well, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out on another date sometime soon?” Thranduil asked with slight hesitation in his voice.

Bard sighed in relief. “Yes, I would love to. Anything in mind?”

“Maybe early dinner at a restaurant or something.”

“I’d like that. We could go on the weekend if that suits you.”

“Yes, I was thinking Saturday, around four-thirty so we can beat the crowds.”

“That sounds good. What restaurant?” Bard questioned, his heart fluttering in his chest like a butterfly trying to break free.

“I’m not sure yet. There’s this good steakhouse not far from my place…”

“Oh yes, I do like a good steak. So if you want to go there, then I’m down.”

“Okay.” Thranduil breathed. “It’s a date, then. So what were you going to ask me?”

Bard smiled, biting his lip. “You already answered by asking me first.”

“Oh. You wanted to ask me out, too?”

“Yeah, you beat me to it.” Bard said, running a hand through his damp hair.

“I guess I did. I’m glad you said yes.”

“I would never deny myself the pleasure of being in your presence.” Bard confessed. Being with Thranduil had made him happier than he had felt in ages and he only hoped he could make Thranduil as happy in return.

Thranduil chuckled. “You are sweet, Bard.”

“You are, too, Thran.”

“Oh damn, Legolas is calling, he probably needs help with his homework. But I’ll call you tomorrow with the details, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan. I look forward to it.”

“So do I. Have a good night, Bard. Talk to you later.”

“Have a good night. Bye.” Bard said, holding the phone tight to his ear, not wanting their conversation to end quite so soon.

“Bye.”

Bard hung up and left his mobile plugged in before he made his way downstairs. He was surprised to see that Bain was out of his room, lounging on the couch watching the sports network.

“You in the mood to eat now?” Bard asked him.

Bain grunted without looking away from the TV. “I ate it already.”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure you had something.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Bain replied dismissively.

“Where’s Tilda?” Bard asked as he walked into the kitchen to find only Sigrid sitting at the table.

“I helped her finish her homework so she’s playing in her room.” Sigrid said, eyes focusing on the screen on her laptop.

“Oh, okay. And you’re working on homework?”

“Yeah, another essay.” Sigrid bemoaned.

Bard knew he had to tell the children about his date on Saturday before the day was upon them, so he figured now was as good as time as any. He worried that he was going out too much lately and may consequently upset them, but he didn’t waste any time bringing up the subject.

“So just a heads up that I’ve got plans on Saturday for dinner.” Bard announced as he filled the kettle with water so he could make himself a cup of tea.

“Oh, with your friend?” Sigrid grinned, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes, with my friend.”

“Again?!” Bain’s voice echoed from the living room.

“Yes, Bain, again.” Bard said, going back into the living room.

Of course Bain would be the one to react in such a way. He had been distancing himself from the family recently, and had not yet expressed his emotions about his parents’ divorce. Something was weighing on his mind and it seemed now was the time it would all come out. Bard braced himself for the inevitable explosion.

“You’re going out with your new girlfriend again aren’t you?” Bain accused, raising his voice.

“I don’t have a new girlfriend, Bain.”

“Don’t lie!”

“I’m going out to see a man, not a new girlfriend, as you put it.” Bard regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth, but it was too late to take it back now.

Bain’s eyes grew wide. “Ew! That’s even worse. You’re dating a man!”

“I’m not dating anyone! He’s a friend.”

“Gross. Nobody wants to know! Maybe if you were just straight, then Ma wouldn’t have left us!” Bain yelled, balling up his fists as he stood from the couch and paced around the living room.

“Bain!” Sigrid yelled out from the kitchen.

Bard took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, trying his best to keep his cool. He didn’t want to fight with his son but the lack of respect was making it hard for him to hold it together. “I know you’re upset--”

“I’m more than upset! This is all your fault! We didn’t do anything wrong and now she hates us and wants nothing to do with us. And to top it all off, you’re dating a man!” Bain grunted and let out a loud sigh. He clasped both hands on his head, still pacing around.

“It’s okay to be angry. I understand that this is difficult for you. But I don’t appreciate you taking your anger out on me.”

“Yeah, Bain! Don’t be such an asshole!” Sigrid snapped again, this time making her way out of the kitchen and into the living room to stand beside her father. She folded her arms across her chest, giving Bain a disdainful look.

“Fuck off, Sigrid! Am I the only normal one here? I’m living with a bunch of girls, and Da, who’s practically half girl because he likes men! I’m all by myself and no one gives a shit!” Bain cried, throwing his hands up in irritation.

“Bain, stop this now.” Bard said in his most stern voice. “Go up to your room and calm down.”

“Shut up! You’re ruining my life, you fucking faggot!” With that, Bain ran out of the room and disappeared up the stairs. The harsh sound of a door slamming jolted Bard back to the present.

He stood in shock as he looked at Sigrid. Her mouth was agape and her eyes were wide and unblinking.

“I cannot believe he just said that.” She blinked and closed her mouth before wrapping both arms around her unmoving father.

“It’s okay, Sig. He’s angry. He’s just venting. I can’t take it to heart.” Bard spoke as if repeating a mantra. His frustration was just below the surface, threatening to blow over at any moment, but he forced himself to push it down. He would not lose his temper with his children. Bain needed someone to blame and right now Bard was the prime target.

Bard hugged Sigrid and then pulled away to go and finish making his tea. Sigrid followed him back into the kitchen in silence. It seemed neither of them knew what to say. Bard poured the boiling water into a cup and added a teabag, letting it steep while he leaned against the counter.

Ever since Madison had mentioned Bard’s sexuality, Bard had been preparing for the worst, just waiting for something like this to happen. He was right when he guessed Bain would be the one to make a nasty remark; he was a fourteen year old boy after all.

 Bard sighed, blowing on his steaming cup of tea before taking a sip. He cursed when he burned his tongue, sitting the cup onto the counter before he started walking back and forth in the small space of the kitchen.

“Should I talk to him?” Bard wondered aloud.

“I think you should wait.” Sigrid advised from in front of her laptop, her fingers pausing their rapid movement on the keyboard as she looked up at her father. “Let him calm down first. Otherwise he’ll just yell at you again.” She shrugged and resumed typing.

Bard listened to his eldest; she would likely know better than he when it came to judging Bain’s temper. He would give his son time to compose himself and reflect on his behavior. So Bard ended up in the living room sitting on the armchair, his concentration shifting between the steam rising from his cup of tea and the sound of the infomercial droning on in the background. When his tea cooled and he emptied his cup, he figured enough time had passed that Bain should be in a better frame of mind and more willing to have a discussion with him.

With his cup put away in the dishwasher, and a motivational thumbs-up from Sigrid, Bard made his way up the stairs to Bain’s bedroom. Of course the door was closed, so Bard cleared his throat and knocked rhythmically on the door before speaking.

“Bain, can I come in?” He tried, receiving no response in return.

Bard knocked again, louder than before, and proceeded to open the door just enough to see if Bain was asleep.

“Go away.” Bain groaned from under a mess of covers on the bed. He sniffed and pulled the duvet up over his head.

“I just want to talk to you for a minute.” Bard said, taking a few steps into the room and carefully taking a seat on the end of his son’s bed.

Bain exhaled beneath the covers, shifting slightly when he felt that Bard had sat down on his bed. “I don’t want to.” He protested.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know that I understand how you are feeling. I know you’re upset right now and I know it isn’t fair. It’s not fair that you have to deal with any of this. None of it is your fault, remember that. And I know your mother left, and that hurts, but I’m not going anywhere. I am not going to leave you and I will always love you. So, you can be angry at me if you want but I will never abandon you and your sisters.” Bard took a deep breath. “That’s all I wanted to say.” He made to stand from the bed but stopped when Bain pulled the covers down, revealing his face.

“Wait,” Bain mumbled. He paused for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. “I’m sorry, Da.” His head sunk into his hands and he curled into himself.

“I know. It’s okay.” Bard sat back down and wrapped both arms around Bain.

“I didn’t mean it.” Bain whispered, barely loud enough for Bard to hear. They held onto each other for a few minutes as Bard rubbed Bain’s shoulders in soothing motions. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Bard said.

The two of them sat in silence until Bain’s breathing evened out and he pulled away from Bard’s embrace. Bain continued to apologize and Bard reassured him that everything was okay. Since Bain was feeling so drained after breaking down, he stayed in bed and told Bard that he would try going to sleep early. Bard agreed that that was a good idea. He gave Bain a kiss on the forehead – something he hadn’t done in a long time – and wished him a good night before going back down to the kitchen to see how Sigrid was faring with her homework.

It took Sigrid only a few more minutes to finish up her homework and then she was headed up stairs to take a shower before bed. Bard lounged on the couch, his thoughts becoming lighter and more carefree now that he had spoken with his son and the anger in the house had dissipated. But no matter how many times Bain had apologized Bard could still hear the word ‘faggot’ on repeat in his head. It made him wonder if he was making a mistake by letting himself become so enthralled by Thranduil. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to go out with him again so soon; maybe the children were not ready for that yet? Bard knew he would need to sacrifice his own happiness for them; that is what any good parent would do. Was Bard a bad father because he liked Thranduil and wanted to spend time with him? Bard continuously reassured himself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but his inner pep talk did not bring him solace. He turned off the lights and went up to make sure Tilda was sleeping and to say goodnight to Sigrid before heading off to bed.

~ï•ï•ï~

_We’ve been admiring your work for weeks online. You are absolutely perfect for the job. I can’t imagine anyone else would be able to do it justice. You’re exactly what we are looking for._

Oh, bless Thierry Durinson’s exuberant little husband, Bilford Shire! Thranduil’s mind kept presenting him with the words that had been spoken to him earlier during his meeting with his new clients, causing him to smile profusely as he strode around his studio. He had just been commissioned to create an impressionist style painting and what a wonderful feeling it was. Bilford was so enthusiastic about the whole project that it couldn’t help but rub off on Thranduil. He already began sketching out a few ideas he had based on what had been discussed with his clients. He planned on taking pictures of them to send to Thierry and Bilford in hopes that at least one of his sketches would gain their approval.

He worked away meticulously, paying little attention to the time. His phone roused him as it buzzed from wherever he had left it in the room. He was mid-way through a sketch so he ignored his mobile for a few minutes until it went off again. Thranduil rolled his eyes and got up from his work space to search for his phone. He never understood how he managed to lose the damned device so often whenever he was in need of it.

“Fucking phone.” Thranduil finally found it under a pile of papers and quickly opened his messages. He had hoped that the search for his phone would at least be rewarded with a text message from Bard, but unfortunately it was only Haldir.

[From: Haldir] 12:44pm – So?! Did you ask him out?

[From: Haldir] 12:47pm – I know you’re there! Answer me!

Thranduil snickered as he typed out a reply.

[To: Haldir] 12:52pm – Calm your ass. Yes I did. We are going out on Saturday. Since you’re so adamant about this date going smoothly, I was hoping you’d be able to watch Legolas….

[From: Haldir] 12:54pm – WOOOHOOO. ;) ;)

[From: Haldir] 12:54pm – and yes, I’ll watch him. Anything to help Bard get some sugar :P

[To: Haldir] 12:56pm – Thanks :) No sugar. Maybe a bit of spice, though.

[From: Haldir] 12:57pm – Yessss spice is even better. He’ll appreciate that. Legs can spend the night here if you want to take Bard home with you…

[To: Haldir] 12:58pm – lol, that won’t happen, but if you want to keep Legolas for a night then you are welcome to.

[From: Haldir] 1:00pm – it will give you more incentive to take Bard to bed and then you can be as loud as you want ;)

[To: Haldir] 1:02pm – Omg. No one is going to end up in my bed but me! It’s past 1 now, which means your break is over. So go! I’ll ttyl

[From: Haldir] 1:04pm – fine! Ttyl, you old prude!

Thranduil set down his phone, chuckling. Haldir really knew how to make him laugh. And now it dawned on him that tomorrow he was going out to a restaurant with Bard. Of course, Haldir had to make comments about taking Bard home and getting him in bed, which only made Thranduil fret even more about the many possible scenarios for the night. What would the outcome be? What would happen after they had dinner? Would they end up back at Thranduil’s house? Maybe on the couch again? Or maybe in bed? God, no. Thranduil was not the type to go to bed with someone on the third date. Although, with just one look from Bard, Thranduil knew his resolve could easily waver.

He sent Bard a message, letting him know the address of the restaurant and when they should meet. Since Thranduil was feeling so confident, he decided he wanted to drive to the restaurant. He didn’t need Bard to pick him up; he wanted to push himself outside of his comfort zone. It wouldn’t kill him to drive; it would be good exposure therapy. He wanted to get over his fears. He smiled when he realized just how much of a positive influence Bard was for him. He was actually doing things he normal wouldn’t, and it made him feel good inside.

When Thranduil went to bed that night he let himself recall the way it felt to surrender to Bard’s embrace, to his kisses, to his soft touches. It was all so easy, so pleasant. But another thought loomed in the back of his mind; Galion would be back on Sunday. He tried not to think about it, but it was a reality that he needed to face. All of Galion’s things were packed up and Thranduil was ready to tell him that it was over. He had made up his mind and nothing was going to stop him this time. He was going to be free and he was going to allow himself to live a happy life. He smiled, feeling better than he had in a long time.

Thranduil closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep as he thought about how tomorrow would bring only happiness to his world. Happiness, and Bard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOooOoOooo what's going to happen?! Will the happiness last?!


	10. Recumbentibus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Thranduil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooooo sorry this took two weeks to write! This chapter has been so hard to get out. I don't even know how many times I cried. But here you go! A little over 19k. I could've split it into two chapters, but I'm already evil enough so I didn't want to do that. Also, this chapter is told from three people's pov. Thran, Bard and a certain asshole. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Drug use, violence, rape. You have been warned.
> 
> I apologize for any spelling mistakes/grammar blunders. It takes a long time to edit 40 pages on Word!
> 
> Hope you like it :)
> 
> Oh, and the song 'The Whisperer (feat.Sia)' by David Guetta really killed me when I wrote this. So listen to it if you'd like and embrace the pain! (Although the song will fit in better in the chapters to come)

Recumbentibus (n.) the knockout or ending blow, physical or verbal.

* * *

 

Smoke swirled around inside Galion’s hotel room. Feren was crouched down on the leather sofa, face buried in a small mirror where he had cut up various sized lines of cocaine.

“The fucking big one is for me.” Galion called out from the kitchenette. “Don’t you dare do it. It’s mine.”

“There’s more where this came from.” Feren said, leaning in and snorting the white substance through a rolled up five dollar bill. He shook his entire body after he had taken the line, setting the mirror onto the table with shaking hands. He sniffed a few times, clenching his jaw as he sauntered over to where Galion was pouring himself a shot of rum.

“There’s always more.” Galion said, taking the shot with a tilt of his head. He sighed, reveling in the burn the alcohol left in his throat. “Now, let me do mine.”

“Yeah, do it.” Feren waved a hand, grabbing the bottle of rum and taking a long sip straight from the bottle. “Glad you splurged and got the smoking rooms.” He commented, swiping the pack of cigarettes from the counter, placing one between his lips as he lit it.

“Like hell I’m going outside to smoke.” Galion said as he waltzed over and squatted beside the table, clasping the rolled up bill between two fingers and exhaling heavily before inhaling the cocaine in one nostril. He grunted as he felt the drip at the back of his throat, sniffing and rubbing at his nose furiously. Fucking better not get another nosebleed, not today.

“So we’re going back tomorrow?” Feren asked, pacing around the room with the neck of the bottle in his fist, his cigarette hanging limply from between his lips.

“Yeah. Gonna ambush my whore. He doesn’t know I’ll be back on Saturday. I told him Sunday.”

“Good. Catch him in the act.” Feren snickered. “I wonder how many people he’s fucked since you’ve been away.”

“Fuck knows. That slut will open his legs for anything.” Galion said, motioning for Feren to pass him the cigarette. He took a long drag.

“But then again, who wouldn’t want to fuck him?”

“He’s fucked everyone on the street, and it’s a long fucking street. That’s why he’s got so much money. Not from those horrible paintings, from his ass.” Galion chuckled, stealing the bottle from Feren and taking a sip as Feren took back his cigarette.

After a few more drags the cigarette was dropped into a half empty can of beer. They both paced around the room, waiting to do another line. Galion hated waiting. What was the point? He reasoned that it was okay to do another so soon after doing the first; it wouldn’t kill him. Feren did his, and then motioned for Galion to do another as well.

“Do you think he would take two at once?” Feren mused, rolling the bill between his fingers in thought.

“Of course. He loves it.”

“I bet he wishes you’d bring me over so we could fuck him at the same time. Spit roast that whore.”

Galion grunted. “As much as he’d like that, I wouldn’t. He’s mine. But you can have the leftovers once I’ve thoroughly desecrated him.”

“I don’t fucking want your leftovers. It was just a thought. He probably has some serious STD or something. I don’t want that shit.”

“I make sure my whore is clean, don’t fucking worry.”

“I bet he’s fucking someone else as we speak.” Feren laughed.

Galion snickered as a thought popped into his head. How could he have forgotten? “Fuck! I installed that camera for a reason! Let’s watch what the filthy slut has been up to.” Galion pulled his laptop out of his bag, fumbled to plug it in and then turned it on.

He opened up the program that captured the footage from the camera he had installed in Thranduil’s studio. He sneered thinking just how clever he was. What a brilliant plan it was to be able to watch Thranduil without his knowledge, to invade his privacy and uncover the truth.

“Oh shit. I need to see this.” Feren sidled up beside Galion, eyes wide at the prospect of what he may get the chance to witness.

“This camera works based on motion detection. So every time it picks up movement, it will record and be right here for me to watch.” Galion explained, waiting impatiently as the program loaded.

There were hours of recorded footage to watch so Galion pressed play on the video.

“Oh, oh!” Feren exclaimed when the image of long blonde hair appeared on the screen.

“Calm yourself, he’s not doing anything interesting. Gonna paint another one of those fucking childish paintings. Boring.” Galion skipped through the footage of Thranduil painting, despite Feren’s protests.

“Just look at the way he moves, like a true slut.” Feren laughed before moving from Galion’s side to grab the mirror with the lines of cocaine. “This is gonna be good.”

-*-*-

Thranduil prepared himself a cup of tea, practically frolicking around the kitchen unable to contain his excitement for his date tonight with Bard. The radio was on in the background so Thranduil baltered throughout the house while he waited for his tea to steep. Thranduil stilled his body for a moment when a burst of laughter echoed around the room, but he shrugged and continued his dancing.

Legolas stood in the arched doorway of the kitchen where Thranduil was spinning around, swaying to the beat of the music. Legolas clasped a hand over his mouth trying to suppress a chortle as Thranduil spun around to face him. In a dash Thranduil was at Legolas’ side. He grabbed his son’s hands, swinging them about and succeeding in getting Legolas to dance along with him.

“Ada, what are you doing?” Legolas laughed when Thranduil finally let go of his hands.

“Just burning some calories.” Thranduil said, ceasing his movement and resting his elbows on the counter. He blew on his tea and removed the teabag, plopping it into the sink.

“I’ve never seen you dance before in my life. You don’t normally move very much.”

“I move, I dance.” Thranduil waved a hand.

“You move from your bed to the basement to the kitchen and outside to take me to the bus stop, but that’s it.” Legolas chuckled.

Thranduil snorted. “Oh, Legs. I assure you I move more than that.”

“Why are you so happy today Ada?” A look of puzzlement settled on Legolas’s face as he crawled up to sit on the barstool at the island.

There was no point in making up stories, so Thranduil opted for the truth. “I’m going out with my friend again.”

“Who? Uncle Haldir or the friend you had dinner with?”

“The friend I had dinner with.” Thranduil confirmed, taking a cautious sip of his tea.

“Oh. Do you like him?” Legolas asked, leaning his chin into the palm of his hand.

“Yes, I do. He’s very nice.”

They shared a brief smile and once Thranduil emptied his cup of tea, he made his way upstairs to shower and wash his hair. Yes, Bard was very nice, indeed.

It was eleven o’clock when Thranduil got into the shower. He didn’t waste any time, not bothering to linger under the steady stream of water. Once he dried himself off, he threw on his robe and wrapped his wet hair up in a towel. He went to make lunch for Legolas, who had specifically requested grilled cheese and soup. Thranduil wasn’t in the mood to eat, his nerves getting the better of him, so he nibbled on a few pieces of cheese while he was preparing Legolas’s meal.

By the time Thranduil got back into his room it was just past noon. He tossed his robe onto the bed and dropped the damp towel in the laundry bin before he found his brush on the dresser and began running it through the length of his hair. He took great pains to make sure his hair would be nice for Bard, applying various products and drying it with care. He went so far as to use his ceramic flat iron, tackling any frizzines,s leaving the tresses smooth and silky as a result. Thranduil hoped the extra effort would be appreciated if Bard did happen to touch his hair tonight.

He could barely contain his anticipation as he stood in his closet in search of an outfit.

-*-*-

Galion and Feren each did another line of cocaine and shared more rum from the bottle before Galion gasped and stopped fast forwarding though the video.

“Oh shit!” Feren yelled. “He’s with someone! Oh fuck!”

Galion snarled and his eyes grew wide in repulsion. “That whore! I fucking knew it. See, I told you!” The rage was building quickly, blurring his vision and threatening to consume him. Thranduil was in his studio with some guy with dark shaggy hair. It looked like he was showing that fucker his paintings, but Galion knew better. “Fucking slut! They were definitely fucking, or are about to! Oh, I fucking knew it. I told you! I fucking told you. Oh, I will murder him --”

“Shut up, just watch!” Feren cut Galion off, too enthralled with what he was seeing to care about what was being said.

“This is betrayal! That fucking cheater! I will show him!” Galion continued ranting. “I swear to god I will kill him.”

“Look at the way they’re eyeing each other. You know they’re fucking.” Feren commented. “What’re you gonna do about it? I know what you should do…let me fuck him into submission. If he were mine, he would never get away with this shit.”

“I _will_ fuck him into submission. I’ll fuck him until he cries and pleads and then I’ll just fuck him even harder. Until he knows who he belongs to.” Galion growled, hand grasping the edge of the laptop. His palms were sweaty and his heart was pounding in an erratic rhythm. He wanted to whip the laptop into the wall, watch the fucking thing shatter into a million pieces.

“Do it. Give the whore what he deserves.”

“I will. You’ll see. If he thinks he can cheat on me he’s got another thing coming.”

“Fuck him until he can’t walk, fuck him until he’s begging you to stop.”

“Yes, until he fucking passes out from the pain. But the funny thing is, the whore will probably enjoy it.”

“Well, you have to make it so he doesn’t enjoy it, so he’ll never enjoy it again.” Feren laughed.

“He’ll never fuck anyone again without thinking of me.” Galion conceded.

Feren drank more rum as Galion skipped through the video footage. Nothing interesting was happening now. All that Thranduil was doing was painting. _Fucking do something, you slut!_ Galion hit the play button as Thranduil and two other men were caught on the screen.

“Two more!” Galion hollered, pointing at the screen, drawing Feren’s attention once again.

“Shit, Gal, your whore is out of control. Leave him to me for a few hours and I’d make sure he’ll never get out of line again.”

“I don’t fucking need you to do it, so stop suggesting it. I can take care of my whore. I’ll set him straight.”

“You talk a big game, but I don’t see you doing anything about it.” Feren dismissed, getting distracted and doing another line. He paced around the room while Galion stewed in front of his laptop.

“Fuck you. You fucking whore! I can’t believe this shit.” Galion glowered at the screen, yelling at Thranduil as if the whore could actually hear him.

“He’ll never stop until you show him who’s in control.”

“I’ll show him, don’t you worry. He will never have power over me.”

-*-*-

 “Da, what’re you doing?” Sigrid called out. “Where are you?”

“In here, honey.” Bard replied, standing up from where he had been crouched down beside his dresser.

“What are you doing?” Sigrid asked again, entering Bard’s room and sitting on the end of his bed.

“Trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look old and ratty.” Bard knelt down again, digging through the bottom drawer.

“You’re really nervous about this date, aren’t you?”

“Sig, please.” Bard chided, slightly annoyed that she was referring to his dinner with Thranduil as a date yet again.

Sigrid grinned. “Sorry, my bad.”

“Yes, your bad.”

“You’re not gonna go out with wet hair are you?”

“It will air-dry in time.” Bard said, standing as he began to rummage through the closet.

“I could dry it for you with the blow dryer.” Sigrid suggested.

“Thanks, Sig, but you know what happens when I blow dry my hair – it goes all…poofy.”

Sigrid snorted. “Heaven forbid. Poofy hair is entirely unacceptable.”

Bard hummed as he continued his search through his wardrobe, unhappy with his poor selection. He had nothing suitable to wear. He definitely didn’t want to wear the same thing as last time; Thranduil was bound to notice if he showed up with the same shirt on.

“Da?” Sigrid began, drawing Bard from his wardrobe crisis.

“Yeah?”

“When are you going to introduce us to your friend?” she asked softly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea based on the way Bain reacted the other night. So not for a while, at least.” Bard concluded. He felt weird having this sort of conversation with his daughter. Why was she so curious about Thranduil?

He kept his eyes focused on the contents of his closet, avoiding her piercing gaze. He thought about asking her to leave so he wouldn’t have to deal with the interrogation, but he decided against it. He enjoyed her company, and he was glad she was supportive of him. It was more than he could ask for.

“Well, what is he like? You’ve gotta tell me something.”

“What should I tell you? He’s nice, he’s an artist, I don’t know…” Bard trailed off, unsure of the appropriate response.

“Da, just tell me the truth. Is this actually a date? I don’t care if it is. You know I just want you to be happy, and if this guy makes you happy then I’m all for it. I know Bain thinks it’s weird, but I don’t.”

“Sig.” Bard tutted, as he turned to face his daughter who stared at him with large, unblinking eyes. His resolve was beginning to waver. There were only so many ways to dodge the questions; eventually he would have to admit the truth and tell Sigrid that he was in fact going on dates with Thranduil. Bard did his best to avert his gaze from Sigrid’s questioning eyes. It was like she was searching for any small shift in his expression that would give him away.

“It might be a date,” Bard admitted in a sheepish tone, “but please don’t tell your brother or sister. I’m trusting you with this.” He kept rummaging through his drawers, keeping his hands busy as he worried about what he had just confessed.

“Ooo.” Sigrid chimed. “I knew it! And I promise I won’t say anything.”

Bard sighed in resignation. “So now that you’ve got the truth out of me will you help me pick out something to wear?”

“Of course! I’ll put together the perfect outfit for you, Da!” Sigrid was beaming, her eyes lit up as she began her perusal of Bard’s closet.

“Should I be scared?” Bard joked, taking a seat on his bed, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on his knees.

“Not at all. I have a much better fashion sense than you.” Sigrid pulled a pair of pants off a hanger, scrutinizing them before she nodded and tossed them in Bard’s direction. “Those will have to do. Black jeans are better than blue. Blue is too casual.”

“I agree. These are good.” Bard said, holding up the pants to inspect them. “I have no fancy shirts or anything.”

“What about this blue cable knit cardigan over a nice t-shirt? I’m sure you have something better than what you wear to work.” Sigrid set the cardigan on the bed beside Bard before she opened the top drawer of the dresser in search of a suitable t-shirt.

“Are you sure this sweater is okay?” Bard asked, examining the oval shaped wooden buttons on the cardigan Sigrid had chose for him.

“It’s a cardigan, and I think it’s nice.”

“I’ll take your word for it, then.”

“Oh! How about you wear a collared button down shirt under the cardigan? It will make it look less casual.” Sigrid suggested, heading back to the closet and pulling out a light grey shirt, holding it up to Bard. “This would look good.”

“You’re the expert.”

“But what do you think?”

“I think it looks pretty good. You could work at a clothing store putting together outfits for clueless men.” Bard chuckled, taking the shirt from Sigrid.

“I could.” Sigrid smiled with pride. “Now get dressed, Da! Don’t want to be late.” She winked and made for the door to give her father some privacy.

“Thanks Sig. I appreciate the help!” Bard called out as she pulled his door shut behind her.

Bard slipped on the clothing his daughter had chosen for him, looking over himself in the mirror a few times before he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair for the third time. He wanted to look presentable for Thranduil, wanted to entice him and make him long for Bard’s touch. He looked at himself again in the mirror, wondering how on earth he, such a simple man, was going to entice such an ethereal creature. He’d need a lot of luck on his side, and a whole lot of unpracticed flirting. But Bard was willing to try.

-*-*-

Feren snaked up behind Galion, watching every move Thranduil made on the screen. “He is really fucking hot though, you can’t deny it. No idea why the hell he went for someone like you.” Feren snickered, slapping Galion on the shoulder.

“It’s called mind-fucking. He was very easy to manipulate. So gullible, so pathetic, it’s almost laughable. He clung to me like glue as soon as I wooed him. It was so easy. If he didn’t have a lot of money I probably wouldn’t have wasted my time. He practically killed his wife in that car accident so I promised him a better life and he bought it.” Galion stated with a straight face. It was hard not to scream at the top of his lung. He fucking hated Thranduil; he wanted to destroy that filthy whore. The thoughts latched onto him, making it impossible to think of anything else.

“That’s hilarious that he had a wife. He’s like the biggest bottom ever.”

“His wife used to fuck him with a strap-on.”

Feren snorted. “No surprise there.”

“A slut like that much prefers the real thing though.” Galion clenched his jaw.

“How do you even know she existed? Does he have a picture?”

“His kid is proof that she existed, dumbass. And I’ve seen her picture. Looks just like him, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were actually brother and sister. Either that, or he’s a narcissistic fuck who got turned on by the idea of fucking someone who looks like him.”

“Why do you even want him then? You should just leave him to me.” Feren chided, grabbing the bottle of rum from Galion’s hands.

“Fuck off. He wouldn’t want you.”

“Right, like the way he wants you? If he wanted you he wouldn’t be fucking other people behind your back.”

“I told you I’d fucking handle it!”

“So why are you with him?” Feren finished the bottle of rum, banging it down on the table.

Galion ground his teeth, exhaling sharply. “Are you fucking stupid? I told you. He’s got a lot of money.”

“Oh-ho-ho! Someone is defensive.” Both of Feren’s hands went up as he back away from Galion’s chair.

“I’m not defensive; you’re just dense as fuck.”

“I think you’re paranoid. You know he’s going to leave you. And you’re just sitting here powerless to stop it.”

“Get the fuck out!” Galion snapped, turning in his seat. He got up, stomping over to Feren and shoved his friend towards the door. Feren’s antics were beginning to piss him off.

Feren only laughed, letting himself be pushed around as if it didn’t faze him. “Fine, kick me out because I’m speaking the truth. You’re just as pathetic as your whore.”

Galion slammed the door in Feren’s face.

“You’ll let me back in once you realize I’ve got the coke.” Feren shouted from the hallway.

“Fuck you.” Galion yelled, but a sick feeling rose briefly in the pit of his stomach; he needed the cocaine.

-*-*-

The door bell rang and Thranduil skipped down the stairs, fastening his belt before he reached the last step. He knew it was Haldir who was at the door but his chest was pierced by a jolt of anxiety anyway; as if it could somehow be Galion there to ruin everything. He took a deep, steadying breath and reassured himself that everything was going to be fine. It was just Haldir coming to pick up Legolas so he could watch him while Thranduil went out on his date with Bard. Ah, yes, sweet, kind, handsome Bard. Thranduil’s heart ached in anticipation.

He swung the door open once Haldir had taken to assaulting the door bell, the noise of the bell drowning out Thranduil’s thoughts of Bard.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Thranduil said, waving Haldir into the house.

“Took long enough.” Haldir snickered. “Primping in front of the mirror, I’m guessing?”

“I don’t primp.”

“Your picture would be in the dictionary next to the word primp.” Haldir grinned, as he walked with Thranduil into the living room, not bothering to take off his shoes.

“Your picture would be in the dictionary beside the word obnoxious, and nosy, and annoy--”

“Hey! C’mon now, Thran. I merely jest.”

Thranduil scoffed, suppressing a chuckle. “I know.”

“So the big day is finally upon us.” Haldir remarked, plopping himself down onto the couch, crossing one leg over the other.

Thranduil took a seat next to him, picking stray blonde hairs off his pants. “God, I shed like an animal.”

“A wildebeest. So…are you excited?”

“I’m trembling with confidence.”

“Oh, stop! Do you want me to keep Legs for the night?”

“I don’t know. I highly doubt anything will happen. He isn’t going to sleep here. Not on a third date. Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

“I have high hopes, Thran. You should too!”

“I don’t want to sleep with him.”

“That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told. You want him; it’s written all over your face.”

“Not yet. If it ever does happen I want it to be perfect, not just some quick fumble in the sheets.”

“Oh, so you _do_ have high hopes.” Haldir smiled, nodding his head.

“Maybe. I want more than just sex.” Thranduil admitted with a sheepish expression.

“Good.” Haldir settled back into the couch cushions, putting both hands behind his head as he lounged. “Now, are you gonna continue being rude or are you gonna offer me some tea?”

“There’s no time for tea. It’s almost three forty-five.” Thranduil said, checking his phone. “I need to leave shortly after four. So I’ll go get Legolas from his room.”

“There’s always time for tea.”

“Stop and get some on the way to your house, or go make it yourself. You know where I keep it.” Thranduil stood up.

“Fine, I’ll stop and get some. And maybe donuts too.”

“Don’t let Legolas have too much sugar. He’ll keep you up all night.”

“Ohhh! So you do want me to keep him for the night!” Haldir exclaimed in an amused tone.

“He’ll enjoy it, and it will be nice to have the night to myself.”

“With Bard, you mean.”

“Oh, shush.” Thranduil chided with a look of feigned exasperation. Despite his joking, he was truly thankful that Haldir was being so accommodating. Thranduil had no expectations of Bard staying over for the night, but who knew what could end up happening in the heat of the moment. He wanted a child-free house just in case. And he would savour the peace and quiet either way.

“Alright, grandpa. Go get the littlest leaf!” Haldir said, stretching his legs out onto the couch once the spot was no longer occupied by Thranduil.

“Hey! No shoes on the couch!” Thranduil tsked, rushing over to bat Haldir’s legs back onto the ground.

“Yes, your majesty. Whatever you say, your majesty.” Haldir said, laughing, but he moved his feet nevertheless.

Thranduil rolled his eyes and headed towards the staircase. He flew up the stairs, taking two steps at a time and dashed to Legolas’s door, knocking a few times before his son answered and told him to come in.

“Hey, leafy. Uncle Haldir is here.”

“Yes! I’m all ready.” Legolas said, tossing his book down beside him and leaping from his bed.

“He said you can spend the night there if you want. Do you want to?”

“Yeah! I want to. I need to get some stuff though!” Legolas’s smile grew wide.

“Good. I can get you an overnight bag and you can pack some things, but be quick okay? Ada has to leave soon.”

Thranduil fetched a bag from his room and left Legolas to pack; he was confident that his son would be able to pack the proper things and he would check over the contents of the bag before Legolas left with Haldir anyway.

Thranduil found himself back in the living room listening to Haldir’s flirting suggestions until Legolas finally appeared from around the archway, struggling with the overnight bag that was packed to the brim.

“Hi, uncle Haldir!” Legolas called out, dropping his bag and running to give Haldir a hug.

“Hi, leafster, hope you’re ready for a fun night!” Haldir said, scooping Legolas up and swinging him around in circles.

“So much stuff, Legs.” Thranduil commented as he dug through Legolas’s bag finding far too many movies and books stuffed in amongst a few articles of clothing. “You forgot socks.”

“Oops.” Legolas made a mad dash for the stairs, his blonde hair whipping behind him as he ran.

“Go quick, you need to get going.”

“Yes, Ada!” He called, already at the top of the staircase.

“I can’t believe someone as broody and reserved as you managed to produce such an excitable child.” Haldir laughed as he and Thranduil made their way over to the front entrance.

“I am not broody. I used to be fun.”

“Yeah, I remember our party days.”

“I wasn’t the best role model.” Thranduil sighed at the recollection, wondering what his life would be like if he was still that young carefree person.

“Maybe your new boyfriend can help reawaken your spirit. Oh, and don’t forget to get a picture of him!” Haldir beamed, nudging Thranduil’s shoulder.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and I’m not going to be weird and randomly take pictures of him.” Thranduil shook his head. God, Haldir was nosy.

Just then, Legolas bounded over to Thranduil’s side, socks in hand as well as a few more books.

“I’m ready now.” Legolas announced, as Thranduil got his coat and scarf from the closet.

Thranduil held out the coat as Legolas slipped his arms inside and then turned his son to do up the zipper and wrap the scarf around his neck. “Have fun, little leaf.”

“Thanks, Ada. We will!” Legolas grabbed his bag, shoving the extra books and sole pair of socks inside before opening the door and heading out on the front step. “Let’s go!”

“Have a good date, Thran.” Haldir whispered making sure he spoke softly enough so Legolas would not hear.

“Thanks, Hal. Call me if you need to.” Thranduil said, sincerely hoping that nothing out of the ordinary would happen. Legolas always had a good time when he was with Haldir. The thought helped ease Thranduil’s mind.

“Yup. Call me in the morning when it’s safe to bring Legs home.” Haldir winked, making his way outside to where Legolas bounced up and down impatiently.

“Yes, I will.” Thranduil said from inside the house. “Bye. Have fun, leaf!” He called out to his son, waving as Legolas and Haldir got into the car.

Once Thranduil closed the door behind him, he rushed back up to his room to brush his hair one last time and look himself over in the floor-length mirror. He had to admit, he looked pretty good.

Pulling his phone from this pocket, he checked the time and made his way back down to the living room. It was just past four o’clock when Thranduil decided he should probably text Bard but his phone buzzed indicating that he had received a text from Bard instead. Bard’s message let Thranduil know that he was just about to leave. Thranduil smiled and bit his lip because Bard had called him ‘doll’, again.

It was time to go, so Thranduil donned his most presentable looking outerwear, put on a pair of black leather boots with a slight heel, helping to somehow make his slender legs look even longer. These were his seduction boots. He hardly ever wore them, but today he was in the mood for something a little different, something to compliment his mood.

Sucking in a breath, Thranduil exited the front door, locking it behind him as he made his way to the car. God, he was nervous. Nervous to drive, nervous to see Bard, but the hopeful feeling in his chest pushed him out of his comfort zone and into the unknown. He was a little frightened, but he would not let his fear dictate his life. It was time he fought his own apprehension and let himself experience something new, something that could consequently bring exquisite happiness into his life.

**-*-*-**

It was Saturday afternoon when Galion got into a cab at the airport. The back of the cab reeked – a mixture of body odor, musty seats and the vomit that likely still clung to the ends of his hair. His head was a jumbled mess, the past few days a blur. He could barely remember what, or who, he had done; only recalling the multiple partners that dotted upon him and the copious amount of blow he consumed. He fucked beautiful women, gorgeous men, escorts that he paid for with his slut-of-a-boyfriend’s money. Galion had ways of making his own money, but never would he use it to pay for hookers. Thranduil’s money was hooker money, and gambling money, and drug money.

He sneered in the back seat of the cab, before a laugh escaped from deep in his throat. Oh, Thranduil. Galion wondered what that little bitch was up to now. It was time to find out. It made Galion laugh how easily Thranduil believed him. He’d outright lied to Thranduil – not that lying to him was a new thing – telling him that he was returning from his trip on Sunday, when all along he knew he’d be back on Saturday. He wanted to catch his whore in the act. Find that slut in bed with one of his tricks, and then serve him with the proper punishment.

Galion sniffed, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. His whole face burned. His nose and the back of his throat felt like they were on fire. Ignoring the pain, he pulled his mobile from his pocket. Four-eleven.

He was almost home. The cab pulled around the corner of the street and Galion growled when the house came into view and there was Thranduil, standing outside, unlocking the car door – of all things! Driving! After that fucking whore had killed his own wife in a car accident! Something must be going on for Thranduil to be taking the car willingly.

“Stop driving. Pull over.” Galion ordered the cab driver.

The cab came to a stop a few houses away from Thranduil’s and Galion kept his eyes locked on his boyfriend’s every movement, from the sway of his hips, to the way he slid into the car without hesitation. What the fuck was he doing?

“I’ll fucking kill him.” Galion mumbled under his breath. “Follow that car.” He told the cab driver, once Thranduil had pulled out of the driveway.

The cab driver looked back at him with a curious expression.

“I’ll fucking pay you extra.” Galion promised. “Keep your distance, though, don’t get too close.”

The cab followed Thranduil’s car and with each passing second Galion felt he was about to snap. He bit his tongue so hard he almost drew blood as a string of curses ran through his head on repeat.

_Fucking nasty little slut. I’ll fucking show you who your ass belongs to. How dare you defy me?! You’re mine. I’ll fuck you until you can’t sit down for weeks. Then you’ll see who’s in control here. Disobedient whore!_

He pulled out his cell phone and typed out a message to Feren.

[To: Feren] 4:15pm – That fucking whore has been caught! I told you! You may think that I’m powerless but don’t you worry, I am going to regain my power once I drag him back home and shove my cock up his ass until he passes the fuck out. I will control that slut.

[From: Feren] 4:18pm – you fucker! You’re fucking crazy. You get paranoid every time your whore goes out to the market to get milk. Calm down.

[To: Feren] 4:19pm – He took the car. He never fucking drives unless he really has to. He’s going on a date. He’s dressed nice and everything. I know it.

“Fuck.” Galion stuffed his phone back into his pocket, more annoyed now than he was before. He didn’t give a shit what Feren had to say. It wouldn’t change anything.

The rest drive went by in a blink, and by the end of it Galion was on the edge of his seat, his seatbelt unbuckled as his eyes darted around frantically, watching for Thranduil to emerge from his car.

They were at a fucking restaurant. Fucking whore is going to turn tricks.

Two and a half minutes ticked by and the cab driver began to grow impatient, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Galion placated him by paying him and handing him a few rolled up twenty-dollar bills. That should shut the fucker up.

By the time three minutes passed Galion was fidgeting in his seat, grunting, and Thranduil had still not gotten out of his car.

And then he saw it. Some fucking guy knocking on Thranduil’s window, smiling and giving a wave of his hand.

_I fucking knew it! You’re caught, you fucking whore!_

That was the same guy with the dark shaggy hair who had been in Thranduil’s studio with him. Galion remembered seeing him while watching the video footage. It was definitely him. It had to be.

The jackass backed away as Thranduil stepped out of his car. Galion drew in a sharp breath when Thranduil pulled the man into a hug.

Galion saw red. Everything around him faded away; tunnel vision had set in, and all he could see was Thranduil’s betrayal.

Thranduil and his trick walked towards the restaurant, smiling and laughing with each other like two fucking love sick idiots. No, Galion was going to shatter it all. No happiness for his whore. Not with anyone, not ever.

Galion’s hand clutched the door handle and within seconds he was out of the cab. He held his travel bag in one hand and the other was balled into a tight fist, his nails digging into his palm.

“I’ll fucking show him. Thinking he can disobey me. I’ll fucking destroy him.” Galion growled as the cab pulled away, leaving him fuming in the parking lot.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket, almost dropping it onto the pavement in his state of blind fury. He sent another rant to Feren.

[To: Feren] 4:29pm – You’d think that he would’ve learned by now, after all the times I’ve had to teach him a lesson. I’m going to ruin that fucking whore. He is out with some fucking trick! I’m gonna show him exactly who’s cock belongs in his ass. He will be in pain for weeks once I’m through with him and he’ll love it. He loves when I make him scream and beg and this time he’ll get it worse than he’s ever gotten it. No escape! I will fuck him so hard he’ll never want to be fucked again. He’ll have to put up one hell of a fight before I ever let him forget this. Fucking whore thinking he can betray me. FUCK NO.

He grit his teeth and hit the send button, finding no relief in venting his anger through a text message. Feren didn’t fucking understand anyway, and Galion had better ways to take care of the fury that was consuming him.

Time to go investigate.

-*-*-

“You look absolutely gorgeous, Thran.” Bard said, smiling.

“So do you.” Thranduil whispered.

The hostess led them to a table and Bard pulled Thranduil’s chair out for him.

“Thank you, Bard. You’re a gentleman.” Thranduil took his seat.

Bard’s smile grew wider when he noticed the way Thranduil was blushing, his pale cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he fixed his eyes on the menu in front of him.

“A gentleman for you. You deserve the best.” Bard said, opening up his menu and deferring his eyes from Thranduil. He felt he was being too open all of a sudden and needed a distraction.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Thranduil looked up, running a hand through his hair. It looked especially silky today. God, Bard wanted to be the one brushing fingers through those tresses, savoring the anticipation such a simple gesture would leave in his chest.

“It’s nice to see you, too. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“So am I.”

“Your hair looks really good today. Not that it didn’t before, but today it looks so smooth, so soft.” Bard bit his lip. He was definitely saying too much.

Thranduil hummed happily. “Thank you. I wanted to make sure it would look nice for you. You look extremely handsome today, as per usual.”

God, how could such a simple compliment sound so seductive? “Thanks, Thran.” Bard smiled.

At that moment their waitress appeared, introducing herself before asking them if they would like to start out with drinks. Thranduil went first, asking for some expensive sounding pinot noir. Bard inquired about what craft beers they served and he decided to try one that he’d never had to chance to try before. He always liked trying new drinks any time he was out at a restaurant. It was something that was on his bucket list – to try every craft beer he possibly could.

They made small talk about simple things such as the weather and work and their children until the drinks arrived. They both took languid sips of their drinks, very rarely breaking eye contact. Bard could not stop staring at how beautiful Thranduil was; he was a sight to behold.

“Well, well, well… What do we have here?” A man appeared behind Thranduil, arms crossed, his body snaking in closer to the back of Thranduil’s chair. The man’s ashy coloured hair was disheveled and scraggly, falling over his shoulders in disarray. He had a bag hooked over one shoulder and his eyes held something akin to contempt.

Bard blinked in shock, looking at the man and then to Thranduil, whose eyes were wide with shock. Thranduil’s body seemed to tense, and he froze when he heard the man speaking. Thranduil cracked his fingers and then turned his head apprehensively to face the man.

 “I’m gone for less than a week and you’ve already taken a position as a full time whore.” The man continued. “You’re really a piece of work, Thranduil.”

Bard sat frozen in his seat as the realization hit him; this was Thranduil’s ex. What a fucking piece of shit. Bard didn’t know whether to keep his mouth shut, or tell the bastard to go to hell. Likely the former; his mouth was too dry to properly form words. Speaking would only set Bard up for embarrassment, but he couldn’t imagine it to be nearly as bad as how embarrassed Thranduil looked at the moment. Thranduil’s pale cheeks had flushed bright red, his mouth was slightly agape and his eyes had yet to blink. He was like a marble statue, sitting and staring with his head tilted to the side, his eyes fixed on the man standing beside him.

“W-what are--” Thranduil began, stuttering, but his ex cut him off with a gesture of his hand.

Then, that asshole fixed his glare on Bard, shaking his head as he smirked. “And how much did you have to pay to spend an hour with my little queen?”

“Uh…” Bard had no idea what to say to such a horrible accusation. How had this man ever been worthy of Thranduil’s affections? He deserved nothing. He surely did not deserve Bard’s response.

“Stop.” Thranduil uttered. And before Bard could manage to string together a sentence, Thranduil rose, pushing out his chair, locking his eyes with Bard’s. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Aww, how sweet.” The man snickered with a contrived look on his face. “Poor whore doesn’t want to lose out on his payment.”

“Come with me. We need to talk.” Thranduil pushed the man away from the table and corralled him towards the exit.

Bard exhaled a sharp breath of air. What had he just gotten into? This didn’t feel right at all. Thranduil ex gave him bad vibes and Bard would not sit back and let Thranduil be verbally abused in public. He stayed seated, knowing it was best to let Thranduil deal with this on his own. But if it took longer than a few minutes, Bard wouldn’t hesitate to involve himself. Thranduil’s safety was the number one priority.

This was supposed to be their night, and Bard would be damned if some asshole from Thranduil’s past ruined it.

-*-*-

“What are you doing here?” Thranduil asked through clenched teeth, as he marched out to the parking lot with Galion on his heels. He stopped a few metres away from his car - which was luckily parked a good distance away from the cluster of other vehicles – and turned to face Galion.

 This was un-fucking-believable! Galion was not supposed to be back until tomorrow evening. Unless of course he had been lying the entire time. Maybe he didn’t even go out of town at all; maybe he had been stalking Thranduil all week. Thranduil swallowed hard, trying to quash the unpleasant thoughts.  He needed to remain calm so that Galion wouldn’t make a scene.

“I’m here to tame my fucking whore. I was right about you, you know.” Galion glowered, taking a step too close to Thranduil.

Thranduil immediately jerked backwards, only to have his personal space invaded once again as Galion stepped forward.

“Excuse me? Tame your whore? Do you hear yourself?” Thranduil scoffed, shaking his head. No longer would he bow down to such a cruel, heartless human being. It was time to stand up for himself.

“We are going home, Thranduil. You are completely out of line. Who is that fucker you’re with? Am I interrupting a date?” Galion feigned a pout, mocking Thranduil with a snicker.

“Why would I want to go anywhere with you with the way you speak to me? It is unacceptable, it’s disgusting-”

“You’re disgusting.” Galion snarled, cutting Thranduil off.

“Please don’t make a scene. You’re only embarrassing yourself.”

“You should be the one who’s embarrassed. A cheap whore caught cheating!”

“We aren’t together anymore. This is over.”

“It’s over when I say it’s over. Now let’s go!” Galion grabbed Thranduil’s upper arm, yanking him towards his car.

“No. You have no say, Galion. We are done.” Thranduil pulled his arm away. “I’m going back inside. I want you to leave me alone.”

“No! I’ve heard enough of this bullshit. You’re coming with me.” Galion went to reach for Thranduil’s arm again but Thranduil dodged the swipe.

“I don’t love you; I don’t even like you. So just leave. It’s over.” Thranduil said with an air of finality, but the look in Galion’s eyes told him this was far from over.

In a swift motion, Galion grasped the back of Thranduil’s neck with one hand as the other clutched his arm and pushed him along to the driver’s side of the car.

“Get the fuck in. Or I’ll have fun torturing your son. Open the door!” Galion growled in Thranduil’s ear, and when Thranduil didn’t move, he shoved a hand into Thranduil’s pocket to fish out the car keys. He pressed the button to unlock the doors, hand still firmly in place on the back of Thranduil’s neck as he opened the door and shoved him into the driver’s seat. “Don’t make any sudden moves, whore.”

Thranduil’s breath had picked up and his mind told him to run, to flee back into the restaurant for safety, but his body would not budge. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing; there had to be some way he could make Galion leave. Thranduil figured that if he had to drive back to the house then at least he would be able to toss Galion’s stuff at him and force him out of his life. There wasn’t going to be anything simple about this. Making a scene was in Galion’s nature; there was nothing Thranduil could do to stop it.

He had barely noticed Galion sitting in the passenger’s seat until the door slammed shut and Galion chucked his luggage over his shoulder into the backseat.

“Drive.” Galion threw the keys at him.

“Where the fuck do you want me to go?” Thranduil snapped; he was through being treated like second hand trash. If Galion wanted a fight, then he would get one.

“Home, you fucking idiot. Where the fuck else?!”

-*-*-

What the hell was going on?

Bard sat at the table, eyes transfixed upon the bubbles in his beer. What had just happened? Thranduil’s ex had just shown up during their date, that much was clear, but what did he want? What was he going to do? Based on the things he said he seemed pretty pissed; not just angry, he was furious. Bard had never seen that look in anyone’s eyes before. Not even Madison had the ability to give such a deadly glare. And the way he spoke to Thranduil – it was appalling, and so very degrading. Bard swallowed the lump in his throat, shivering as if spiders were crawling all over his body. He was utterly disgusted.

He knew he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. This was the man who had hurt Thranduil. Was he going to hurt him now? What was he capable of doing; how far would his anger push him? Bard was torn between staying in his seat and going to follow Thranduil and that abusive piece of shit out into the parking lot. He had no idea what the right decision was and it was becoming evident to him that he was in way over his head. He knew he couldn’t just let Thranduil deal with this on his own. Bard was involved whether he liked it or not. He would not let Thranduil get hurt because his ex saw them together.

Reaching for his wallet, Bard pulled out a twenty dollar bill, hoping that would cover the cost of the drinks. How expensive was Thranduil’s wine? It had to be less than fifteen dollars. He sucked in a breath, left the money on the table and headed for the exit.

God, what did he even expect to do? How was he going to be of any help? He would just have to intrude and let things unfold however they may. He only hoped that this ex of Thranduil’s would not become violent. But that was only wishful thinking as Bard already knew that he was very capable of becoming violent. Bard recalled Thranduil’s bruises, wincing at the mental image. Thranduil’s ex had been violent towards him before so of course things could easily escalate.

What if Bard stepped in and things somehow got worse and ended up spiraling far beyond his control? His worries were enough to eat him alive but it was too late now; he was already out of the door. He stood there for a moment, letting the wind whip through his hair before he spotted Thranduil and his ex yelling at each other.

He could hear Thranduil’s voice faintly; it sounded like he was trying to reiterate to his ex that their relationship was over, but his protests seemed to fall on deaf ears.  Before Bard knew it, Thranduil was being grabbed forcefully and pushed towards his car. Oh fuck. Bard’s legs suddenly felt very heavy. What was he supposed to do? Just stand there watching, or march over there and punch that fucker out? Bard inhaled, clenching his fists.

Fuck.

Thranduil was pushed into his car and his ex made a quick move for the passenger’s door, slamming the door shut behind him once he slid inside.

For a few seconds the car did not move. Bard wondered what they were saying to each other. How bad was this going to get? Bard needed to follow them. He had to do something. It was obvious that Thranduil didn’t want any of this. In the time it took Bard to make his decision, the car was already headed out of the parking lot. Shit, shit, shit.

Where were they going? Where was this fucker forcing Thranduil to drive to? The only logical place would be Thranduil’s house, but Bard couldn’t be sure. He unclenched his fists and rushed to his car, scrambling to find his keys and almost dropping them in his haste.

“Fuck.” Bard grumbled. He finally got a grip on the car keys, pressed the button to unlock the door and got into the driver’s seat. With the keys in the ignition, he backed out of the parking spot and hurried out of the parking lot and onto the road.

The radio was quickly switched off; it was only causing Bard to become more anxious. He didn’t need any noise right now, especially when he’s nerves were already so frazzled. Every sound only helped to increase his stress level. He needed to stay calm. Nothing bad was going to happen. Everything would be fine. Thranduil would just talk to his ex and he would leave; Bard was only making sure that things would be okay.

A searing pain shot through his chest and he suddenly felt very protective of Thranduil. He needed to keep him safe. This asshole would hurt him. He would take out his anger on that beautiful, gentle, kind person that Bard had so quickly fallen for. The thought made Bard sick to his stomach. He wanted to pull over so he could throw up on the side of the road, but there was no time. Every minute wasted, was another minute that Thranduil was in danger.

Just drive. Go to Thranduil’s house. But what if they went somewhere else? What was Bard supposed to do then? He sped up, hoping he could spot Thranduil’s car close by, but it was a failed effort. The last thing Bard needed was to be stopped by the cops for speeding, so he slowed down to follow the speed limit.

He kept telling himself not to freak out, but his inner monologue did little to console him. He pulled out his phone when he was at a stop light. He checked to see if maybe Thranduil had sent him a message with some sort of hint as to what was going on. But, nothing. He quickly typed out a message before the light turned green.

[To: T] 5:01pm – Are you okay? I’m coming to your house.

It was probably pointless trying to text Thranduil right now, but Bard didn’t know what else to do to ease his mind. He needed to know Thranduil was safe.

“Please, god.” Bard mumbled. “Fuck.”

-*-*-

“You do not own me! You can’t keep trying to control me like this.” Thranduil yelled, his hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“You were out on a fucking date!” Galion shouted back, slamming his hands down onto the dashboard.

“So what if I was! I can do whatever I want! You have no say in who I see.” Thranduil kept his eyes on the road, trying not to let himself be devoured by his rage.

“You’re a fucking cheater, Thranduil!”

“Cheater, that’s fucking funny.”

“You really are a slut. How dare you cheat on me?!” Galion grabbed Thranduil’s wrist, pulling his hand from the steering wheel.

 “I don’t want to be with you. I want nothing to do with you. Take the fucking hint! I want you the fuck out of my life! What don’t you understand?” Thranduil struggled to yank himself free, blindly swinging his arm around so that he knocked Galion’s shoulder a few times. He never took his eyes off the road.

 “You’d never survive without me! I wonder just how long that guy will stick around once he finds out that you’re a cheater and a whore.”

“Fuck you. Bard makes me happy, unlike you.”

“Bard can go rot in hell. Probably just your first trick of the night.” Galion snorted as if he found his own words amusing.

“ _You_ can rot in hell. You’re a fucking abusive piece of shit! Do you not see the way you treat me? Do you think it’s right?”

“I’m just keeping my whore in line. You deserve what you get, Thranduil.”

“I deserve to be abused, to be forced to have sex with you?” Thranduil yelled, pulling his eyes from the road as he looked at Galion with an appalled expression.

“I never forced you to do anything!”

“Are you fucking kidding? What was that in my studio the other night before you left?!”

“You liked that!” Galion shouted, his body angled in Thranduil’s direction.

“You have no idea what I like! Why would you? You know nothing about me.” Thranduil scoffed. How could someone be so fucking horrible and still think that this kind of behavior was justifiable? He wanted to spit in Galion’s face.

“I know all your fucked up kinks. You loved it. I was just giving you what you wanted.”

“You will never know what I want.”

“In fact,” Galion snarled, ignoring Thranduil’s words. “You loved it so much that I have been watching you love it over and over. Begging like the little slut you are.”

“What?” Thranduil gaped, turning his head to look at Galion once again. He had to avert his gaze at once; the expression on Galion’s face made him sick.

“You thought you could sneak around on me! I’ve been watching you.”

“Watching me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve got a fucking camera in your so-called studio! I saw your every move.”

“You’re fucking sick! How could you do that?!” Thranduil’s stomach was in knots; he wanted to throw up.

Had Galion been watching him all this time? Did Thranduil ever have a moment of privacy in the past week or had Galion been watching his every move? Had he seen Thranduil and Bard in the studio on the night of their dinner date; had he seen Thranduil kissing Bard on the couch? Where else did Galion install a camera? How long had it been there? Was there one in his room? Was he watching Legolas too? Thranduil’s fears played over and over in his mind as Galion continued shouting at him on their drive home.

When Thranduil pulled into the driveway Galion had his door opened before the car had even come to a complete stop. He rushed over to grab Thranduil from the driver’s seat and hauled him towards the house. Once they had made their way up the steps, Galion pushed Thranduil into the front door. The thud of his shoulders hitting the hard surface drew a grunt from his throat, and he winced slightly.

“I have your stuff packed and ready. So you can get the fuck away from me.” He growled, mentally preparing himself for the fight that would inevitably ensue. He composed himself, smoothing down his clothes and running a hand through the ends of his hair.

“I’m not going anywhere, Thranduil. You have no power here.” Galion pulled his key from his jeans pocket and fumbled around trying to get the door unlocked. He snarled when the key didn’t fit properly and wouldn’t turn in the lock. “What the fuck!!!”

“Ha! I fucking changed the locks, you fucker. You aren’t allowed in.” Thranduil yelled, towering over Galion and shoving him backwards until his back was pushed against the brick wall.

“You’re fucking out of line! Stupid fucking whore.” Galion’s hand shot up, grasping Thranduil’s throat, but Thranduil slammed his forearm down, successfully breaking free.

Thranduil’s rage tore through his body as he bit the side of his tongue, swirling salvia around his in mouth. He drew his head backwards and spit. Then, he closed his eyes. Galion wasn’t going to let that one go. Not a chance.

A guttural scream filled the air around him and time appeared to stand still. That is, until the back of his head came into contact with the brick wall, the pain a pleasant distraction from his fury. Hands were groping at him, first at his jacket pockets, then at his pants pockets, until the hands found what they were searching for.

Galion had the door open and within seconds Thranduil was shoved inside, almost tripping over the doormat as he staggered forward. Galion’s hand was wound in Thranduil’s hair and his grip didn’t cease once they were inside, it only grew tighter.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Thranduil yelled, swinging his arms hysterically, clocking Galion in the face with an elbow. He spun around and clutched Galion’s shoulders pushing him back into the wall with as much force as he could gather.

Then, Thranduil released one hand from Galion’s shoulder and hurled his fist at Galion’s face. The harsh sound of bone meeting bone made Thranduil want to laugh. He managed to land three solid blows to Galion’s face.

Galion lashed out at him, seizing hold of Thranduil’s hair and ripping out several strands as he fought back to gain the upper hand. It was as if the two of them were engaged in a vicious dance of power, both struggling to reclaim control over the other.

Thranduil stifled a cry when Galion tugged out more of his hair. He tried desperately to side-step Galion’s efforts, yet still made it his mission to be as ruthless as he could. No more holding back.

_C’mon you fucking piece of shit, give me all that you’ve got._

“Who do you think you are spitting in my face?!” Galion hollered, managing to latch onto Thranduil’s arms with what felt like enough force to surely leave behind multiple bruises.

“Fuck you!” Thranduil screamed, yanking his arms back, pulling Galion along with him. Galion quickly let go of Thranduil, scrambling to regain his balance, but no, Thranduil would not let him get away so easily. Not this time.

In a swift and precise motion, Thranduil shot his leg out, the heel of his boot cracking against Galion’s shin as he proceeded to throw more punches, only once missing his target.

Somehow, Galion dodged Thranduil’s last swing, ducking down and shuffling backwards, fumbling with something in his hand as he propelled his body in Thranduil’s direction once again.

“Stay the fuck away!” Thranduil let out a harsh cry, but in an instant he saw it – Galion swinging his fist with brute force.

Thranduil blinked on impulse, as if closing his eyes would ease the blow. He tried to move out of the way, but something sharp and hard came into contact with his head. Being struck so brutally caused Thranduil’s head to whip backwards, sending him off kilter. And then everything slowed down. For a few long seconds he could not see, dropping to his knees as a soundless scream escaped his throat.

Pain, pain, horrible pain. He needed to lie down or else he feared he may throw up from the throbbing of his head. But he knew he could not afford to put himself into such a vulnerable position as Galion stood above him.

Thranduil crouched, his body folding in on itself as both hands clasped at the source of pain. Suddenly a hand pulled his arms out of their shielding position, hauling him upward and he was struck with another blow to the face. This time, his entire body slammed hard into the floor. His legs had given out and he was too dazed to get back up.

“What the fuck.” He muttered, unsure if the words had actually left his mouth, or if it was a mere thought still on the tip of his tongue.

Galion was yelling at him but he could not make out what was being said; everything was fading, going black. It was as if he was underwater, unable to see or hear, darkness closing in around him and threatening to take him under.

The pain continued to flood in, overwhelming him, attacking his senses until he could no longer form a coherent thought.

Strong hands twined into his hair, digging into his scalp as his body was yanked forward. And in that moment Thranduil knew he was powerless to stop it; everything hurt and he could not fight back. His face was burning; hot, searing pain eating away at what little control he had, as his arms reached up to clutch at where he had been struck.

“Stupid fucking whore!” Galion yelled, as he began dragging Thranduil into the living room.

“Stop! Please. Fucking stop.” Thranduil hoped his voice came out as more than a meek whisper, but he didn’t know as all he could focus on was the pounding in his head and the heat pooling into his hands.

As he was shoved forward, both hands dropped down with barely enough time to catch himself. Then he saw it.

_Red._

He was bleeding. It was all he could see, all his eyes could make sense of. He was bleeding. It was dripping from his head onto the floor in front of him. His ears were buzzing but he could still make out the faint sound; drip, drip, drip.

Moving his hands, he noticed the bloody handprints left behind upon the hardwood floor as he reached up in search of his wound. Why was he bleeding so much, what did Galion hit him with?

Galion’s snort drew him back to the present, but the sound was far away, barely in his realm of consciousness.

Thranduil cringed; he was on the floor like a coward.

When Thranduil tried to get up, he was shoved down face first. His cheekbone hit the cool hard surface of the floor as a knee, or a foot – Thranduil couldn’t be sure – pressed hard into his back, keeping him pinned down.  

“Tell me, do you know the best way to break in a horse?” Galion said, pausing as if awaiting Thranduil’s reply before he continued to speak. “You just gotta beat it. That’s the only way it will ever learn. Beating is an effective method for punishing a whore, as well. And you, well, you’re the biggest whore I know. How many people have you fucked while I was away? Tell me! How many?” Galion was now kneeling between Thranduil’s sprawled legs, one hand on the back of his head and the other between his shoulder blades.

The hand on Thranduil’s head wound into his hair, pulling his head up and slamming his face back down onto the ground with a thud. A raspy groan of protest came from Thranduil’s throat as Galion continued to bang Thranduil’s head onto the wooden floor.

“S-sto-p.” Thranduil tried to articulate but the syllables would not come together to form proper words.

Galion laughed. And then the pounding of Thranduil’s head ceased.

Depsite the haze that clouded Thranduil’s mind, he could make out the sensation of his pants being yanked down.

_No, no, no, no, no. Fuck. He’s not going to- no, no. Don’t. He’s not going to do this again; he can’t do this again. Fight. Just fight. Don’t be weak. Get up and fight back. Just do it. Knock that fucker out. Never. Submit. No._

With as much strength as he could muster, Thranduil attempted to move his legs and arms; kicking, flailing, anything to get that fucker off of him. It was a pointless struggle; the immense pain he was in left him with little control over his own body.

In an instant, Thranduil’s pants were around his knees and then down to his ankles, and Galion fumbled about until he had pulled the belt from Thranduil’s pants. Galion grasped Thranduil’s hips, yanking him backwards as he used his own legs to spread Thranduil’s legs wider.

“N-no.” Thranduil uttered.

Galion was chuckling as he hauled Thranduil’s shirt up and rubbed a hand over his back. Thranduil reflexively jolted in shock when the belt cracked down upon his skin, leaving his heart racing and his body aching.

Thranduil struggled to get up and push Galion off of him, only to have his face bashed into the ground once again. He willed his legs to move but they felt numb, frozen in place with his fear. He didn’t want to submit, he thought he was stronger than this.

 “Just gotta ride my horse, gotta break you in. Show you who you belong to. Don’t ever think you can escape me. This-” Galion grasped at Thranduil’s ass, “-is mine. You are mine. My property, I own you, and I will beat you for as long as I want, until you’re begging and crying like the little bitch that you are.”

A harsh scream shot out of Thranduil’s throat; he knew exactly what was about to happen. He screamed like his life depended on it. He had no other defense.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Thranduil yelled, somehow managing to find his words.

Galion’s hands were on his ass, touching him and groping him like he was nothing more than a toy. Thranduil shuddered when he felt Galion’s cock running up and down the cleft of his ass.

_Not this. No, anything but this. God, please, no._

Nails dug into Thranduil’s thighs but it was not enough to distract him from the crippling pain of a cock entering him so forceful, so brutally that he could feel nothing else. His vision blurred, he coughed out an inaudible gasp as his body tensed in opposition to the onslaught. He was instantly consumed by the feeling, as if he was being torn and mutilated, as if he was worthy of nothing more. His screams grew louder, more and more intense with each stabbing thrust. Why couldn’t he just pass out? He had been so close to being unconscious. Could Galion not even provide him with such a simple kindness?

“No. Stop. Fuck. Ow.” Thranduil’s vocabulary had been reduced to one-syllable words, each one drawing more excruciating thrusts from Galion’s hips.

“I’ll fuck you until you can’t move for days, fucking whore. Trying to cheat on me. You thought you’d get away with it, huh? Well you thought wrong!” Galion shouted, voice ragged, breath coming out in staccato gasps.

The belt struck Thranduil’s back again but this time the motions repeated, on and on, again and again until Thranduil was completely numb. The pain had grown so unbearable that his body must be producing endorphins; natural painkillers. It was his only salvation.

“You like that, huh? You like being fucked senseless.” Galion growled, his voice rough, the sound pushing Thranduil into a fit of desperation. He wanted to move, wanted to do anything to stop the frenzied attack on his body. But what could he do? Is this really what he deserved? Was he truly the whore that Galion thought him to be?

The flogging was incessant, and now Thranduil could no long feel just where he was being lashed – his back, his shoulders, his arms. It all felt the same, his skin was on fire and the sting of the leather turned dull despite the increased intensity of each thwack.

Thranduil was on the edge of unconsciousness, the darkness taking over and pulling him into the void. But one thought stood at the forefront of his mind.

_He will kill you. You will die. What will your- what will Legolas do? No mother. No father. Nothing. You are nothing. A dead whore._

-*-*-

Bard drove quickly, coming to an abrupt stop two houses away from Thranduil’s. He didn’t want to give away his position. He slid out of the car, ignoring his atrocious parking job and the fact that he left his car on, keys still in the ignition. He crept with haste, moving diligently towards Thranduil’s house, crossing over the lawn and ducking behind trees as he made his way to a large three-panel window adjacent to the front door.

He lowered his stance, crouching as he sidestepped bushes and shrubs so he could get close enough to the window to peer inside. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but the image he was presented with made him swallow hard, the knots in his stomach coiling tighter.

This couldn’t possibly be happening; it was like living in a movie. These things didn’t just happen, and when they did, it was never people like Bard who ended up in the thick of it. Like something straight from a suspense novel. Bard did not want to believe it.

Thranduil was being beaten. Bard saw these incidents on television, but now, seeing it in real life made him ill, bile rising in his throat as he tried to swallow down his nerves. What was he supposed to do? This guy was extremely violent and Bard had no idea what more he was capable of.

Thranduil’s ex had dragged him, by the hair, thrown him down and pushed his face into the floor, yelling out muffled curses as he did so. Bard tried to make out what he was saying but the glass of the window was too thick. The first thought that popped into Bard’s mind was to get his phone and capture everything on video. It seemed perverted but what else could he do to help other than obtain evidence?

Right, maybe call the cops. His brain lagged, making it difficult to link together his thoughts. He shoved his hands into his pockets in search of his phone, but then he remembered he had left it on the passenger’s seat in the car. He booked it to the car as fast as he could. There was no time to waste.

Once he had his phone, Bard moved stealthily back to his position at the window crouching low beside a large bush. Oh god! That asshole had Thranduil’s pants off. This was too much, entirely too much. Bard did not want to think about it. Thranduil was going to get raped.

Oh shit, shit, shit.

He dialed 911 as fast as his shaking fingers could move, holding the phone up to his ear as he waited for the line to connect. His words came out in rapid fire once the dispatcher asked him what the issue was. He found that he couldn’t thread together a proper sentence at first, but he took a few deep breaths, composing himself before trying to speak again.

“My…friend…is getting beaten, attacked…and…raped. Send the police.”

Bard gave Thranduil’s address when asked, and was told to stay calm and remain out of the way. It would not be wise for him to involve himself or make his presence known for fear that the situation may only escalate if Thranduil’s ex knew he was there.

Bard hung up once the dispatcher informed him that the cops were on their way. He badly wanted to bang on the window or break down the door, but instead he pressed the ‘camera’ button on his phone, switched it to video mode and hit record.

God, what the fuck was he doing? Bard angled his phone so that the gruesome act would be caught on camera and he would have the perfect evidence to lock that son of a bitch up for a long time. Bard could not watch, he averted his eyes but made sure the camera was facing the right direction. All he could hear were loud, echoing screams. The guttural sound of each scream was laced with pain and desperation.

What was wrong with this piece of shit? How could anyone possibly do such a thing? And to someone as kind and loving as Thranduil? It did not make sense. But then again, Bard never really understood violent people. They were likely very insecure, prone to lashing out and harming others to maintain a sense of power and control.

For fuck’s sake! Why were the cops taking so long?! Bard let his eyes linger back into the house when a particularly nasty scream filled the air. That fucker was whipping Thranduil with a belt or some sort of leather strap. Bard turned away quickly, unable to handle watching that filthy creature thrusting his hips like an animal.

The faint sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, and Bard listened intently, hoping his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. No, he was still sane. That was the sound of sirens. They were getting louder, closer. Thank the lord. They could arrest that pathetic excuse for a human, send him off to prison and let him get exactly what he deserves.

Within less than a minute, two police cruisers appeared around the bend in the road, followed by an ambulance. Finally. The police cars stopped on the side of the road and the noise of the sirens stopped.

Bard came out from the bushes, rushing over to the two police officers who exited the first car. Two more officers emerged from the other vehicle, heading towards the front door. The two from the first car approached Bard. They asked him if it was him who made the call and he answered in accordance.

His attention was divided though, paying more attention to the two burly cops on Thranduil’s porch, knocking at the door. Knocking and ringing the door bell wasn’t going to do any good, even Bard knew better than that, but he guessed that was just protocol. Don’t break down the door until you attempt a knock. Rapists don’t just answer the door that easily.

Two EMTs appeared from out of the ambulance, making their way up to the front door where the cops were now using force to break the door down.

The two police officers drew Bard attention back to them, and began questioning him about what had taken place. Bard didn’t know where to start so he began by explaining what happened at the restaurant. He also mentioned the fact that he knew Thranduil’s ex was violent and had seen bruises on Thranduil before. He told them that because he was worried about what would happen, he followed to make sure everything would be okay. Then he explained to them what he witnessed once he arrived at the house. He gave them a play by play of everything he saw and then told them that he had in fact obtained video evidence. He didn’t know if recording people without their consent was a crime, but right now he figured that did not matter. He had proof that Thranduil was attacked and raped.

A few people on the street had drawn Bard’s attention. It seemed as though people were just as curious as Bard had expected. An older man and a dark-haired woman lingered outside in a driveway, sharing looks with each other before their gazes fell upon the scene at Thranduil’s house.

Bard tried to ignore his annoyance with the onlookers, so he gave his phone to the cops and played the video for them. The two of them huddled around the phone as Bard took a few steps back, not wanting to be anywhere near as the video played out. All he wanted to do was go inside to see if Thranduil was alright.

A struggle from the front door broke out, catching Bard’s eye. The two other cops were fighting to gain control of Thranduil’s ex as they dragged him down the steps and towards the police cruiser. Bard’s expression turned cold. He shot an appalled look in that fucker’s direction and for a second their eyes locked. Bard shuddered, looking away but not before he noticed that Thranduil’s ex was in handcuffs. Good. He was being arrested. The cops escorted him into the back seat of the car, shoving him down when he tried to resist.

“Do you think I can go inside to see him?” Bard asked, now pacing around back and forth while the cops continued watching the video.

“It would be best if you wait outside. He needs to be questioned and the EMTs will take care of any trauma related injuries.” The shorter of the two replied.

“Okay, but after he’s done being questioned I am going to see him.” Bard was determined. He needed to make sure Thranduil was okay. He wanted to be there for him, to support him and do whatever he could to help.

-*-*-

Through the haze, Thranduil could hear the sound of the doorbell ringing. Galion’s body jerked, pulling Thranduil with it, but Galion did not stop his brutal movements. Thranduil’s consciousness lingered; each sharp, painful thrust of Galion’s hips coupled with the sound of the doorbell only made him all the more aware of the situation he was trapped in. Who was at the door? He thought he heard sirens from outside, but that could very easily be his mind playing tricks on him. His mind was fooling him into believing that someone was coming to save him. Part of him didn’t want to be saved. He should be able to save himself; but he was unable, and so that made this the perfect punishment. Just let Galion kill him. He didn’t want to live after this.

A thud from the front entrance drew his attention. He groaned, fingers clutching at the floor, grasping at nothing. The belt lashed him again, but this time he didn’t feel it, only heard the whipping sound reverberate in the air. Galion’s voice was loud; he was yelling, screaming, but the words didn’t make sense to Thranduil’s ears. He could barely hear what was being shouted at him, his focus was further away, on the sounds in the front entrance. It sounded like someone was breaking down the door, yet Galion’s tenacity did not falter. It seemed he wanted to see this through until the very end.

Thranduil heard other voices, footsteps, and Galion stiffened atop him.

Suddenly, the weight of Galion’s body was gone. He was free, but freedom was not what he felt. He felt nothing. His hips dropped now that the hands that held him up were no longer grasping at him. An uneven exhale sputtered out of his mouth and he collapsed onto the floor, rendered completely motionless. A fight was breaking out somewhere behind him, he was sure of it. Swearing was taking place and heavy footfalls vibrated off the hardwood floor.

Thranduil instinctively reached down for his pants, writhing around on the floor as he struggled to pull them up. God, he felt so exposed, so humiliated. He could feel two bodies behind him, breathing, reaching out for him. Thranduil flinched when arms carefully pulled him from the floor, helping him over to the couch. Thank god he had gotten his pants up without assistance.

A blanket was draped over his back, around his shoulders and he was given a bottle of water, which he sipped languidly. Two EMTs were there with him, one sitting on the couch beside him, digging through something in a bag, while the other examined the wound on his head. He was glad they weren’t talking to him; he had nothing to say.

A loud crashing sound from the entrance drew a gasp from Thranduil’s mouth as he clutched the blanket tightly around himself. Something smashed and he heard Galion cursing, and then a thud echoed throughout the house and the yelling stopped.

He barely noticed that his head wound was being cleaned until he felt a stinging sensation. He gazed up at the EMT who was focused on cleaning his injury before pressing gauze to his head and holding it there. He was told that he would need stitches as the bleeding would not stop. How hard had Galion hit him, and with what? He must have been struck with the keys, that was the only thing Galion was holding.

The EMT who was sitting beside him handed him a juice box and told him to drink it. Orange juice. The straw had already been inserted into the box so Thranduil leaned his head down to take a sip. It tasted rotten; he cringed but continued to drink it anyway, knowing that it would probably help keep him from fainting.

Sitting on the couch became painful and all Thranduil wanted to do was lie down on his stomach. He was regaining sensation and all he could feel was the horrible burning of however many lacerations Galion had left on his back from whipping him with the leather belt.

Unfortunately he did not have time to voice his feelings before the two cops appeared in the doorway, approaching him cautiously. Was he supposed to stand up to greet them? He was not sure his legs would hold up his weight, so he remained seated, sipping at the orange juice every so often.

The cops jumped right into questioning him, not bothering with sentimentalities. To them, he was just another victim, no one special, just someone to gather information from. This was their job; they didn’t give a shit about him or his feelings. Thranduil listened to them speak, but the words sounded jumbled in his head and he didn’t know how to answer. They asked him to tell them exactly what happened. He didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to forget, push it to the deepest recesses of his mind where it would remain collecting dust for the rest of his days. Everything that Galion did to him, every touch, every word, every movement, Thranduil remembered. It played over and over in his mind like a broken record, driving him mad.

He struggled to find his words and then hesitantly began recalling each and every gruesome detail. He spoke quietly, pausing every now and then to compose himself before he continued. The cops were patient, never pushing him, only listening, nodding, and writing things down on a clipboard. Thranduil didn’t even recognize his own voice; it sounded foreign to him, as if listening to himself speak on video or in a recording. He didn’t sound like himself. He trailed off a few times while he was trying to find the proper words to describe exactly how Galion had violated him but the cops seemed to get the jist of it and did not need him to say the one word he was uncomfortable uttering aloud. Merely thinking that word formed acrid knots in his stomach.  

Something jogged his memory, causing him to remember what Galion had said to him on the car ride to the house. A camera in the studio.

“He’s been watching me.” Thranduil said, looking up from where his eyes had been fixed upon the juice box in his hands. “There’s a camera in the basement. He installed a camera and he said he watched me. He’s done this to me before. And he has it on video. I’m sure. You have to go check.” He rambled on, making sure the cops took his suggestion seriously. If they found that camera, they would find evidence of the previous incident where Galion had attacked and forced himself upon Thranduil that night in the studio.

The cops agreed to go search Thranduil’s studio to see if it was in fact bugged. Galion could have very well been telling lies just to rile Thranduil up, or it could have been one of the few times he had ever been truthful. Thranduil told them he worried that there may be cameras set up in other parts of the house as well. So with Thranduil’s permission, both cops left the room, one to check the basement and the other to search the rest of the house.

Thranduil sat stock-still on the couch, breathing heavy as his eyes scanned the room, stopping when they landed upon the blood on the floor. His blood. God, he couldn’t bear to look. How was this really happening? It was as if he was in a dream; nothing made sense, everything was surreal – like being trapped inside a Dali painting which he could not escape. Even Dali’s paintings made more sense than this fucked up situation. All Thranduil had wanted was to have a nice dinner with Bard.

Bard. Where was he now? What did he think of Galion showing up at the restaurant like a crazed lunatic? Bard probably never wanted to see Thranduil ever again, and Thranduil did not blame him. Who would want to get involved in this mess?

“Honey,” the voice of the female EMT drew Thranduil from his reverie, “we need to stitch up that wound.”

Thranduil hummed in acknowledgment. Did they mean to take him outside to the ambulance? Were they going to take him to the hospital? “Here, or at the hospital?”

“We can do it here. I can bring the supplies inside if you’re more comfortable here.” She said, speaking softly. He could feel the pity in her voice. It made him sick.

“Yeah, here.” He said.

She nodded in the direction of the other EMT, who made his way outside, likely to collect what was needed to stitch Thranduil up.

“D-do I need to go to the hospital?” Thranduil asked, although he already knew the answer. The doctors would likely want to probe at him and find out how badly injured he was.

“Yes, honey. We will need to take you to find out the extent of your injuries and provide you with the proper medical attention. Although we cannot force you to go, it would be beneficial if you did. You can also speak with the sexual assault nurse and you should be examined for physical evidence, internal injuries and STDs.”

Thranduil cringed when she said ‘sexual assault’. But at least she didn’t say the other word. He didn’t speak, only nodded and kept his eyes transfixed on his fidgeting hands. “What will they do, how long will this take?” He said at last, swallowing hard.

“It can take upward of two to four hours. And it’s not going to be the best experience, I will be honest. It can be very invasive, but it’s important to collect the evidence which will later go to the police for the investigation.”

“Why an investigation? Isn’t it obvious what he did?” Thranduil debated. He didn’t want to go to the damn hospital. He hated the hospital. His wife died in the hospital while he was being worked on in another room. He survived and she died. He couldn’t go to that god forsaken place by himself. That would only make everything worse.

“It is, honey. But they will need physical evidence, real proof to use against him in court. Otherwise it’s your word against his.”

“They’re going to photograph me, and probe at me, aren’t they?”

“Yes, it might not be comfortable, but it will help in the long run. I promise.”

Thranduil hummed, chewing on his thumb. “I guess.”

The other EMT reappeared with a large bag. He opened it and took out some medical tools – a syringe, gauze pads, alcohol, a vial of some sort of liquid, a needle which was still sealed in protective plastic and surgical thread. Thranduil gulped, looking away from all the tools and closed his eyes.

Because the wound was so close to Thranduil’s hairline, the EMT decided to shave off the hair in that area to make it easier to sew in the stitches. Thranduil was not happy about this; his hair was something he took great pride over and having to get it shaved, albeit a small amount made him feel extremely insecure. He watched the strands of hair fall onto the floor and his breath caught when he felt the EMT inject the area with a local anesthetic.

His knees were bouncing and the female EMT had to tell him to stay still while the other stitched up the wound. Thankfully it was a quick procedure and was over before he knew it.

It was then that the cops reemerged. One was holding what appeared to be a small surveillance-type camera in his hands.

He held up the device. “You were right.” He said to Thranduil. “It has a memory card so we will need to take it back to the station and go through the footage to see if we can find any evidence.”

“You will find something. I know it.”

-*-*-

The frigid air outside did nothing to calm the burning desire Bard had to get into the house. He was waiting, pacing around, biding his time until the moment he would be allowed to go see Thranduil. How long was it going to take? All they had to do was question Thranduil, it shouldn’t take forever. Bard couldn’t quiet his mind. What was going on inside? How badly hurt was Thranduil? Did he even know that Bard was there?

There were so many things Bard wanted to say to Thranduil. He longed to hold him close, rock him back and forth, whisper soothing words to him and let him know everything would be okay. He wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing he could’ve done to stop that psychopath. He wanted to remind him how special and important he was, that there was no one in the world as wonderful as him. It crossed Bard’s mind that Thranduil wouldn’t even want him there, that somehow his presence would do more harm than good. He took a deep breath as he paced around on the front lawn, making his way over to his car while he waited. He realized that during all the commotion, he had left his car turned on, so he quickly pulled the key from the ignition and put it in his pocket. He looked at the time on his phone; it was just past six o’clock. Bard was starving, but he ignored his stomach – there were more pressing matters at hand. He could feed himself later.

He ended up back on the lawn talking to the two cops again, his gaze continuing to drift back to the cop car which housed that horrid rapist. Bard bit the inside of his cheek. How he wished he could march right over there, pull the bastard from the police cruiser and slam his fist into that fucker’s face repeatedly. Bard had never considered himself an aggressive person, but Thranduil’s ex was really testing his limits. How could anyone be so heartless and cruel?

Finally, the two cops gestured towards the house, letting Bard know that he could enter. He approached the steps, lagging behind the officers, swallowing hard when he thought about what he would see once he passed the threshold. Was Thranduil okay? Would it look like a crime scene?

He entered slowly, hesitating once he stepped into the entrance. He recalled the last time he had been in this house and how very different the circumstances were then. His heart fluttered in his chest, fists clenching at his sides. The cops went ahead without him. It took a few long seconds before Bard found the courage to move his legs. They felt heavier with each step he took, like he was trapped in a nightmare and no matter how fast he ran his body did not want to move.

When he made his way around the doorway into the living room, he came to a standstill, unable to process what he was seeing. The rug was askew, bunched up and rolled over upon itself, and on the hardwood floor was…blood. Oh, god. Bard’s breath caught. How was this real? When he was finally able to draw his eyes away from the sight of blood, he saw Thranduil sitting on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his body shaking, his eyes glued to the wall in front of him. He looked completely transfixed, as if in a trance that he could not break out of. His fingers were wound into the blanket and he gasped shallow breaths. Bard took a few small steps, hoping that Thranduil would notice him approaching. The last thing Bard wanted was to sneak up on Thranduil and scare him.

He exhaled the breath he had been holding once Thranduil looked in his direction.

-*-*-

The sound of more footsteps entering the house drew Thranduil’s eyes away from the two cops in front of him. It seemed there were more cops at his house than he had thought. Two more officers entered the room. Thranduil did not look over; his eyes remained focused on the wall. But then another figure entered his peripheral vision. Thranduil blinked. Wait, was that Bard?

Oh, god! What was Bard doing here? Thranduil swallowed the lump that was clawing its way up his throat, glancing over at Bard for a fraction of a second before he diverted his eyes, staring fixedly at the leg of the coffee table.

The cops talked amongst themselves for a few long minutes while the two EMTs made their way back out to the ambulance to put away their gear. It was then that Bard approached Thranduil with wary steps.

He let his gaze wander in Bard’s direction when he felt the presence of another body standing beside him.

“Thran--” Bard said, voice coming out hoarse.

“W-what--” He wanted to ask Bard what he was doing here, but his words faded away before he got the chance to speak them. He was ashamed, humiliated, and he didn’t want Bard to see him like this. But his worry passed quickly though. He found he didn’t care. Nothing could be worse than what he had just endured. He had been exposed to the world, it didn’t matter who saw him now.

Thranduil let his eyes flitter about, finally allowing himself to glance up at Bard. Bard’s eyes held a sadness that he had not seen the man possess before and it made Thranduil’s heart clench. Was Bard really here to see him?

“Thran, can I sit?” Bard asked, chewing on his lip. When Thranduil nodded, Bard stepped over his legs and took a seat to Thranduil’s right.

“W-what are you doing here?” Thranduil asked, not looking over at Bard, keeping his eyes on the juice box he still clutched in his hand. This whole body was shaking; he tried to still himself but was unable to compel the tremors away.

“I followed you.” Bard said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

Thranduil didn’t know what to say. Had Bard actually left the restaurant after Galion had dragged him off? Did he actually care enough to come searching for Thranduil at his house?

“How did you – how did you know where I was?”

“Lucky guess.” Bard said in a flat tone. When Thranduil didn’t speak, Bard continued. “I was worried. I remember what you told me about him, so I put two and two together and I knew whatever he was going to do would be bad, but I-I never expected….this.” Out of the corner of his eye, Thranduil saw Bard make a broad gesture with his hand.

“H-how long have you been here? Was it you – were you the one who called the cops?” Thranduil finally angled himself towards Bard, looking at him, but never directly in the eyes.

“Yes, I called them. And I’ve been here long enough to know that that fucker should be locked up in prison for life.”

Thranduil blinked. “What?” Had Bard actually seen?

“I confess, I was so worried that I looked through the window to see if everything was okay. It took everything I had not to break down the door.” Bard looked away, clasping his hands together.

“You saw? Oh, god, Bard.” Thranduil shut his eyes and slouched into the couch, hoping the world would just swallow him up.

“I’m sorry. I think you should go to the hospital. I could take you if you don’t want to ride in the ambulance…”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

“Thran, you need to.”

“I don’t want them touching me, or poking at me, or violating me anymore than I’ve already--” Thranduil’s words died out; he didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

“I know. It won’t be nice, but I will be there with you, if you’d like. I won’t go anywhere.” Bard inched himself closer to Thranduil, easing an arm gently around Thranduil’s shoulder. Thranduil flinched at first, but then sunk into Bard’s side, savouring the feeling of warmth, of safety.

Thranduil sighed. He was overwhelmed, not only by the horrible situation he was placed in, but also by Bard’s care and compassion. This man had such a good soul, a kind heart. “Thank you, Bard. That means a lot.”

“I promise I won’t leave you. I’ll be here for you in whatever way you need.” Bard reached out a tentative hand, cupping it gently over Thranduil’s as he held him close.

“Please, come with me.” Thranduil said after a few seconds of silence. He did not want to be alone. Being alone meant having to dwell on his thoughts, let the images repeat viciously in his head. No, he didn’t want that. He couldn’t handle that. He wanted Bard to stay with him.

The EMTs came back inside and explained to Thranduil and Bard what was going to happen once they got to the hospital. They told Thranduil to keep on the clothing he was already wearing, but to bring a change of clothes with him as they would likely keep what he had on for evidence. They told him not to brush his teeth, comb his hair or wash himself in any way until after the physical examination.

Bard helped him up from the couch, one arm wrapped securely around his back and the other holding onto his arm with the utmost care. Only once Thranduil was standing did he realize how weak his legs were. It barely felt like he was even standing, it felt more like floating, as if his body was not real. He gripped Bard’s arm with what little strength he had. They headed for the stairs so Thranduil could go grab a change of clothes. He still didn’t want to go to the hospital but he didn’t put up a fight. He would go and do what needed to be done. It might be bad, but it couldn’t possibly be worse than the treatment he received from Galion.

Ugh, Galion. That name disgusted him, made his stomach churn in revulsion. Thranduil shuddered as they made it to the top of the stairs, squeezing Bard’s arm tightly as he and Bard walked side by side in the direction of his bedroom.

This was not how he had expected Bard to see his room for the first time. He had hoped that a blind fit of passion would have led them into his bedroom, not a tragic nightmare such as this. He let go of Bard’s arm once he pushed open the door and felt stable enough on his own feet. Then, he moved sluggishly into his closet, leaving Bard to his own devices.

Thranduil’s movements were shaky, robotic, not human. He certainly did not feel human. How had this become his life? What did he do to deserve this? He felt like he was not the inhabitant of his own body, like he was watching someone else’s life play out in front of him. Who was this poor unfortunate soul? It couldn’t possibly be him. Inside, he was screaming. But on the outside, the corpse he inhabited could not find the strength to scream; it just went through the motions. A husk of flesh that was somehow housing his soul. It wasn’t really him. Thranduil groaned, rummaging through his clothes, but not really seeing anything in front of him.

“You can come over here if you want.” He said to Bard, who was still standing near the door, looking around Thranduil’s pristine room, this time without the sense of awe that filled his eyes the night that they had dinner together.

Bard approached while Thranduil was trying to pull a sweater off of a hanger. He yanked it so hard that it caused the hanger to clatter onto the ground. Thranduil muttered a silent ‘fuck’, but before he could kick the hanger in frustration Bard had bent down to retrieve it from the floor, hooking it back in its place on the metal bar. “Here, let me hold that.” Bard offered, taking the sweater from Thranduil’s hands and draping it over his arm.

The blanket was slipping off Thranduil’s shoulder and it came to his attention then that his pants were still undone and sagging down off his hips. He reached to do them up, the blanket falling to the floor as he moved his arms in search of the button on his pants that was no longer there. He noticed that the zipper as well was broken, so all he could do was haul his pants up and hope they would stay in place. God, he just wanted to put on another pair of pants. Fucking rules.

“You alright, Thran?” Bard asked as he picked up the blanket from the floor and wrapped it over Thranduil’s shoulders.

“I want to change my pants now.” Thranduil griped.

“I know you do. But you gotta keep them on for now. Pick out some comfy ones for later.”

Thranduil found a pair of his favourite winter leggings. They were lined with a soft, warm fleece. He grabbed them and Bard immediately took them from him and slung them over his arm along with the sweater. “You should get a little bag for your clothes.” He suggested.

“Okay.” Thranduil agreed, searching the bottom of the closet for a bag of the right size. He found a red overnight bag and motioned for Bard to hand him the clothes so he could put them inside. “Can you do me a favour?”

“Anything.”

“Can you get that black blanket on the foot of the bed for me?”

Bard nodded and made his way over to Thranduil’s bed as Thranduil continued digging around in his closet. He moved over to one of the dressers within the large space of the closet, sliding the drawer open to gather underwear and socks. He stuffed them into the bag along with a plain white t-shirt and his favourite cardigan.

“Got the blanket.” Bard said, appearing at Thranduil’s side. “You got everything you need?”

Thranduil hummed in response. He didn’t know what else he would need. He just wanted to get this over with so he could put on clean clothes. And hopefully get the chance to wash himself thoroughly once he returned home. But did he really want to return home? This place was tainted, no longer his sanctuary. Galion had defiled him in his studio and in the living room. The whole place reeked of Galion. He wanted to be as far away from this house as possible. What was it going to be like having to sleep here tonight all by himself? He dropped the bag, rubbing his hands over his eyes until stars danced behind his eyelids.

“Fuck.” Thranduil uttered.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Bard said in a soothing tone. He placed an arm around Thranduil’s shoulder after grabbing the bag off the floor, slowly leading Thranduil over to the bed.

Thranduil went to sit down on the edge of the bed, but stopped and stood back up within a matter of seconds. Bard gave him a concerned look. Thranduil shook his head, not wanting to have to explain how it hurt to sit. “It hurts--”

“Oh, right. Yes. Sorry, Thran.” Bard said, as if scolding himself. He paused, hands resting upon Thranduil’s shoulders, kneading gently. “Can I hug you?” He let his fingertips trail down the length of Thranduil’s arms, threading their fingers together.

Thranduil nodded, leaning in slightly. The warmth and tenderness of Bard’s embrace enveloped him in a way the blanket never could. He reciprocated by wrapping his arms around Bard’s waist and resting his head upon Bard’s shoulder. In Bard’s arms Thranduil was safe, comforted, protected. He was so grateful to have Bard with him right now. If he was able to find the words, he would’ve expressed his thanks to Bard. Instead, he just buried his face into the crook of Bard’s neck, letting Bard rock his body back and forth.

“Thanks.” Thranduil breathed into Bard’s skin, letting Bard stroke the back of his head, running fingers through the strands of his hair.

“Everything’s going to be okay, doll. I won’t leave you. I promise. It’s gonna be okay.” Bard spoke softly into Thranduil’s hair before pulling away. “You ready?”

Thranduil nodded, eyes still closed. “Yeah.”

Bard carried Thranduil’s bag and black blanket as they made their way out of the room and back down the stairs. Thranduil did not let his eyes linger upon the blood on the floor as the cops spoke to him again. They let him know that they had taken pictures in the living room for evidence and that they would get back to him once they had gone through the video footage from the camera that was found in Thranduil’s studio. The cops mentioned that they would be getting a search warrant so they would be able to do a more thorough scan of his house; he didn’t understand why he couldn’t just give them the permission right now, but he refrained from saying anything. When they encouraged him to press charges against Galion, Thranduil felt like he was going to black out; he could not face that reality. It was too much. So he just nodded as if he had heard them, hoping that in a few moments time he would be free of the corruption that had taken root in this fucking house. Why did they think it was a good idea to speak with Thranduil right there in the room where his blood was splattered upon the floor?

Bard’s hold was unwavering. As Thranduil’s mind drifted on the edge of awareness, Bard held Thranduil by his side and spoke with the EMTs. He told them that he was going to take Thranduil to the hospital, that it would be more comfortable for him that way. Thranduil was amazed by how well Bard seemed to be able to read him, seeming to know exactly how Thranduil felt and what would make him more at ease. All of this Bard knew without Thranduil ever having to speak a word.  The EMTs told them what to do when they arrived at the hospital and once Bard nodded his understanding they gathered their things and made their way to the front door. The cops trailed behind them, leaving Thranduil alone with Bard for a few moments.

“Let’s get out of here.” Bard said, gently guiding Thranduil towards the front entrance. He let go of Thranduil while he opened the closet door and pulled one of Thranduil’s coats from the hanger. “Here, don’t want you to catch a cold.” He removed the blanket from around Thranduil’s shoulders and held out the coat so Thranduil could slip his arms inside. Then, Bard draped the blanket back over Thranduil’s back and opened the front door.

“I-I don’t--” Thranduil wanted to protest again, say that he didn’t want to go to the hospital, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words. Bard was being kind enough to do this for him. He just had to deal with what the visit to the hospital would bring.

“I know. You don’t want to go.” Bard said, giving voice to Thranduil’s thoughts. “It’ll be over soon and I’ll be right there with you.” Bard’s arm went around Thranduil’s shoulders, steering him outside. “Where are your keys? I’ll lock the door.”

Thranduil’s hand reached up to touch the bandage on his head. He was sure that the keys were what Galion had used to hit him. He shrugged, not knowing what had become of the keys. “There’s a spare in that drawer there.” He pointed in the house at the small table just inside the entrance.

Bard let go of him, stepped inside and fished around in the top drawer until he produced a key. “You’ve got your phone?” He asked Thranduil, waiting for the nod of Thranduil’s head before he pulled the door shut and locked it behind them.

Thranduil was grateful it was no longer light outside; no one would be able to see him, he could easily hide out of sight in the darkness. Still, he shielded himself in Bard’s arms just in case there was anyone outside, desperate to get a glimpse of him. He knew people could be nosy, starved of any sort of excitement in their own lives; they would linger, watching and hoping to see some action, anything to provide a little thrill to their own mundane existence.

Thranduil’s eyes darted around from behind Bard’s form, unable to see if anyone was actually outside staring at him or not. Bard rubbed his arm, leading him towards the car which was parked on the street. “C’mon, love. You’re okay, you’re safe.” He opened the passenger’s door for Thranduil, helping him inside.

God, sitting down was horrible. He didn’t know how he had managed on the couch. He squirmed around, trying to find a position that would provide him with the least amount of discomfort possible. Once he had settled, Bard closed the door. The pain had finally hit him, the endorphins wearing off as time passed. Despite constantly shifting around in the seat, he could not seem to escape the pain. It felt like a thousand knifes stabbing him in the back. The effect of the anesthetic used to numb the wound on his head was subsiding and every time he closed his eyes he could see white lights flashing behind his eyelids. His body was no longer numb; it was now throbbing with every breath he took.

The sensations caused his anxiety to skyrocket, his heart hammering in his chest. He longed for sleep, or a drink, or a fucking cigarette.

Bard had put his bag on the backseat and slid into the driver’s seat, putting the key into the ignition and quickly staring the car. Thranduil could feel Bard’s eyes upon him. He knew he was a mess, he didn’t blame Bard for staring.

“I-I want…a--” Thranduil began, shifting his body in the seat once again. “Can we get--”

“What do you want?” Bard asked as he started driving. The movement of the car made Thranduil’s stomach uneasy, worried he may throw up at any moment. He swallowed the liquid forming in his mouth and tried to answer Bard’s question.

“A cigarette.” He finally said after a few seconds.

“Well, I don’t have any cigarettes.” Bard said, his eyes focused on the road. “And you need to get to the hospital sooner rather than later, but I can stop at the gas station and get you a pack after we’re done at the hospital.”

“That’s too long. I feel sick.”

“That’s why we need to get there now. I promise you can smoke the whole pack of cigarettes once we leave the hospital.”

“Okay.” Thranduil agreed, although he wished he could smoke a whole pack of cigarettes right now.

“And while you’re with the nurse, I’ll get you some food. Have you eaten today?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Thranduil mumbled. He didn’t remember eating anything today. He had been holding off for their dinner date. Now that he thought about it, he realized he was starving. His stomach was attacking itself, but he knew if he tried eating he may only end up feeling worse. His body would likely reject any food he tried to put into it.

“Okay, I’ll get something for you, then. You need to eat or you’ll end up passing out.”

“I don’t t-think I can handle food.”

“What about soup? And some bread?” Bard suggested.

“I’ll try.”

Thranduil closed his eyes as Bard drove. He just wanted this day to be over. But then what? What would tomorrow bring? How could he possibly feel any better tomorrow? He didn’t want to think about the future. What could the future hold for him? Nothing. He was broken, used, despoiled to the point of self-hatred. He drifted in and out of consciousness, the motion of the car lulling him into a false sanctuary. But right now, that was exactly what he needed. He let the thoughts attack him until they faded enough for him to find some salvation in the abyss of his own mind. Everything went black and he welcomed the cloud of darkness as it pulled him under. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I know I'm horrible. But things will get better. I promise. And just think of how wonderful it will be once Bard and Thran finally get to be happy together!


	11. Lítost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is depressing and in my opinion a bit boring, but it is inevitable.
> 
> Oh and yay for hitting over 100K words :)

Lítost (n.) – regret and remorse and repentance; a state of agony and torment; or sorrow said to be “created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery”

* * *

 

 

After paying the parking fare at the gate, Bard pulled into the hospital parking lot. He found a parking spot as close to the entrance of the building as possible. Thranduil was asleep beside him, completely silent; the rise and fall of his chest the only thing letting Bard know that he was still alive.

Bard sighed. Thranduil looked so peaceful; he didn’t want to have to wake him. But finally Bard shook Thranduil’s arm gently in hopes of rousing him without starling him too much. Thranduil woke immediately, eyes flashing wide open and looking around until his gaze fell upon Bard. He groaned, rubbing his eyes as he shifted around in the seat.

“We’re here.” Bard said, hand stroking Thranduil’s arm. “C’mon.”

Thranduil cast his eyes down upon his feet, refraining from speaking. He unfastened his seatbelt and opened the door, slinking out of the car. Bard pulled the keys from the ignition and slid out of his side of the car before opening the back door to fetch Thranduil’s bag. He made his way around the car to find Thranduil leaning against the door, clutching the handle.

“I-I really don’t want to do this.” Thranduil said at last, still unable to make eye contact with Bard. He huffed, kicking the ground a few times before pushing himself off the car and standing upright.

“I know.” Bard said, but really, he had no idea at all. He couldn’t pretend to know what Thranduil was feeling, and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing, so he kept his replies short. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally offend Thranduil or make him more uncomfortable than he already was.

He held out his hand, offering it to Thranduil. It took a few seconds for Thranduil to react but he reached out for Bard’s hand and let himself be lead to the emergency wing of the hospital. Bard kept a steady grip on Thranduil’s hand, squeezing every now and then as they walked.

The harsh florescent light inside the building made Bard squint and he noticed that luckily there were not many people in the emergency waiting room. Thank god. Thranduil would be able to get through this quickly and not have to wait around as his anxiety grew.

Bard stopped when he felt Thranduil’s body still beside him. He tilted his head back to see why Thranduil had stopped walking. Thranduil let go of Bard’s hand and made to turn around but Bard reached out for his shoulders and held him close.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be over soon.” Bard whispered. Thranduil shook his head, keeping his eyes focused on the ground. “You can do this, Thran. You’re so brave. Everything will be alright.” Bard had no idea what the right thing to say was and he only hoped he didn’t somehow make Thranduil feel worse.

“This is….it’s just so embarrassing.” Thranduil confessed in a small, hesitant voice. “I don’t want to go over to the desk and tell them what happened. You know that’s what I have to do.”

“I can do it for you.” Bard suggested. “I’ll tell them why you’re here and you can go sit down over there and wait until they are ready for you.”

“Will you?” Thranduil asked, looking up at Bard. His brows were furrowed and he had the most heartbreaking expression on his face, like he couldn’t believe Bard would do such a simple thing for him.

“Of course, doll. Go take a seat. I’ll take care of this.” Bard kneaded his shoulders gently before guiding him to a chair far from any other patients.

“Thank you.” Thranduil sat down cautiously.

“I think I’ll need to give them your health card. You have it right?”

“Yeah.” Thranduil fumbled trying to extract the card from his wallet, so Bard took the wallet from him and pulled out the card himself. The poor thing could not stop shaking; Bard had never seen anyone look so broken in all his life. All he wanted to do was making everything better for Thranduil, hold him until the pain went away. But he knew it would never be that easy. It would take a lot of time and patience.

Bard went over to the triage desk with Thranduil’s health card in hand. No one was there so he rang the bell on the desk and waited. When the triage nurse appeared Bard explained Thranduil’s situation to her and gave her his health card. She made a few notes on a clipboard, attached Thranduil’s health card to it and told Bard that Thranduil would be called for assessment in a few minutes. Bard thanked the nurse and made his way back to the row of chairs where Thranduil was sitting.

Bard took a seat beside Thranduil, wondering if he should say something or if silence was the better option. He decided to just sit there in silence, but he let his hand trail over to Thranduil’s. He held Thranduil’s hand loosely, rubbing his thumb over Thranduil’s knuckles in slow rhythmic circles.

“How long?” Thranduil finally asked.

“Not too long, only a few people ahead of you. You’ll have to talk to the triage nurse first and then you will see someone else.” Bard told him.

Thranduil made a sound of disgust and exhaled an unsteady breath. “Fuck. I feel sick.”

“Do you want me to get you food?” Bard asked, remembering that neither of them had eaten anything yet.

“Not in the mood to eat. Maybe later.” Thranduil dismissed.

“Okay. We can get something when we leave.”

“You should eat, Bard.” Thranduil said, glancing in Bard’s direction. “What did you have today?”

“Don’t worry about me, doll. I’ll grab something later.”

“Don’t starve yourself on account of me.” Thranduil let his gaze fall to the floor again.

“I’m fine, Thran. Don’t worry.”

Just then the triage nurse called Thranduil’s name, drawing a heavy sigh from Thranduil. “I guess I can’t run away now, can I?” Thranduil said, pushing himself up from the chair.

“It’ll be fine. You got this.”

“I hope so.”

“I can come with you for this part if you want?”

“It’s okay, Bard. This part only takes a few minutes. It’s what’s coming next that worries me.” Thranduil inhaled, walking with uneasy steps in the direction of the small room located on the left of the triage desk. He looked back at Bard once more before entering the room.

Bard kept his eyes upon his phone, locking and unlocking it, watching the screen come to life and then go black. He contemplated sending a text message to Sigrid. He didn’t want to worry his daughter, but he knew that he would have to call her to tell her what had happened and why he would most likely be home a lot later than expected. He didn’t know what he was going to tell her. He would not delve into the full truth, wanting to respect Thranduil’s privacy. He also didn’t want to freak out Sigrid. He had concocted a story in his head that he would tell the children if they asked, that Thranduil’s house had been broken in to and he had been attacked. But he figured, being the oldest and most mature, Sigrid would understand if he told her that Thranduil’s ex assaulted him. She would be able to piece together the information for herself. Really, the only reason Bard was thinking about how his children would react is because he was considering asking Thranduil if he would prefer to spend the night at his house instead of having to spend the night alone in that crime scene. Bard could never understand how Thranduil felt, but he knew that being alone after a traumatic situation would not be good. He didn’t want Thranduil to have to face his thoughts alone in such a big empty house. Being there after what had happened to him may be too much for him to handle in such a fragile state. So Bard reckoned it would be best if he was in good company, with someone who could be there if he needed to talk, or merely needed the silent support.

The clicking sound of Thranduil’s heels drew his eyes upward and Bard let his lips curl into a small smile when Thranduil approached and sat back down in the seat beside him. He now had one of those plastic identification bracelets on which he kept his eyes fixed upon, playing with it and spinning it around his wrist.

Bard dug around in his pocket for some loose change, deciding to grab something to drink from the vending machine near the exit.

“You want something to drink?” He asked Thranduil, who was still busy twirling the plastic bracelet.

“I’m fine.” Thranduil’s voice had grown quiet once again and he didn’t look up.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a sec.” Bard got up and went to the vending machine that he had seen at the entrance of the hospital.

He put his coins into the machine and got a coke for himself and ended up getting a bottle of Gatorade just in case Thranduil changed his mind. The electrolytes would be good for him. Once the machine dispensed the beverages, Bard walked back over to the waiting room and sat down, crossing one leg over the other.

“Got you Gatorade in case you wanted something.” He said, resting the bottle on top of Thranduil’s bag.

“Thanks.” Thranduil whispered. Surprisingly he took the bottle and tore at the plastic seal, taking a few long gulps of the liquid before setting the bottle upon his lap.

Bard drank his coke slowly, regretting his choice of such a sugary beverage. He should’ve gotten water. His stomach growled, reminding him just how hungry he was, but he pushed the feeling aside and continued drinking his coke.

After about ten more minutes of waiting in silence, a different nurse emerged from behind the two large double doors that lead into the emergency ward, calling Thranduil’s name as her eyes darted around the room.

Bard immediately grabbed Thranduil’s bag from the floor, handing it to Thranduil as he stood from the chair.

“I’ll be here when you’re done, Thran.” Bard said, making sure Thranduil knew that he was not going anywhere, that he would never abandon him.

“Okay.” Thranduil murmured, more mouthing the word than actually speaking it.

Bard watched as Thranduil walked away, listening to the sound of his heels clacking against the floor until the sound faded and Thranduil had disappeared behind the doors along with the nurse. Bard’s eyes lingered upon the closed doors for a moment before he retrieved his phone from his pocket so he could check the time. It was almost seven-thirty now, so Bard decided it was time to call Sigrid.

The service in the waiting room was awful, so he stepped outside into the cold to make the call. He dialed their home number, clutching the phone tightly to his ear while it rang. On the fourth ring, the line connected and he heard Sigrid’s voice.

“Da?” She answered. “What’s up?”

“Hey, honey.” He greeted, avoiding her question. “How’s everything at home?”

“Everything’s fine, Da.” She spoke slowly, as if she could detect the change in Bard’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I just want to let you know I may be late getting home, and I may not come home alone.” Shit, Bard mentally scolded himself for how wrong that sounded.

“What?”

“Something happened. I won’t go into detail but Thranduil has been hurt and we are at the hospital--”

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” Sigrid exclaimed, voice growing frantic.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, honey. Don’t worry.” Bard reassured her.

“What happened? Tell me, Da! I’m gonna freak out.”

“Nothing happened to me. Thran was…”

“Thran? The guy you’re dating, right?”

“Yes,” Bard said, not bothering to correct Sigrid about the ‘dating’ part, “He got attacked.”

“Oh my god! What? How?”

Bard sighed, he really didn’t know if it was right to tell his daughter any of this, but he continued nonetheless. “His ex assaulted him. And it’s bad, Sig. So we are at the emergency room in the hospital right now, and I’m not sure how long this is going to take. Could be hours…”

“Da! Is he okay?” Sigrid gasped.

“He’ll be fine.” Bard replied. Yes, Thranduil would be fine physically; emotionally, Bard was not so sure.

“Good. So you’re bringing him here after?”

“I’m gonna see if he wants to stay over. His house is a crime scene, and I don’t think it would be nice for him to have to stay there all alone.”

“Okay.” Sigrid sounded pensive. “That’s fine. At least Bain is over at his friend’s tonight. When do you think you’ll be back?”

“Hard to say. A few more hours. Hopefully before midnight. Can you do me a favour, honey?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure Tilda gets to bed by ten o’clock, please. It would be best if she was asleep when we get back. I don’t want her to be frightened by someone else in the house, and I don’t want Thranduil to be uncomfortable if she were to ask questions…”

“Yes, Da. I’ll make sure she’s in bed. What should I tell her?”

“Just tell her that Da’s friend was robbed and assaulted, or no…don’t even say that much, just that we had to go to the hospital…oh, but that might worry her…”

“Da, I’ll handle it. It will be fine.”

“Thanks, Sig. And please don’t say anything to Thranduil that would make him feel bad when we get home.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry. I may be in bed by the time you get back anyway, depending how late it is.” Sigrid said.

“Oh, and one more thing. Could you make sure there are fresh sheets on the bed in the basement?”

Sigrid hummed. “Yes, I will. I’ll go do that now.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll talk to you later, honey.”

“Yup. Love you, Da.”

“Love you, too, Sig.” Bard whispered, hanging up. He slid the phone back into his pocket and decided that he had to do something about his hunger; he could no longer ignore it. 

As Bard stepped back inside, the smell of the hospital assaulted his nose - such a powerful and distinct scent. It smelled like an abundance of chemicals, yet so sterile at the same time. Bard ventured out into the main wing of the hospital, not knowing exactly where he was going. He followed the arrows on the walls and only made a few wrong turns along the way. The walls all looked the same; that same pale beige burning into his retinas. God, they really needed a little colour in this place, it was so drab, so lifeless. All he wanted to do was find the café. Walking so much was making him even hungrier.

The air in the hospital was dry and stagnant, the static causing Bard’s hair to stick to his face. He brushed the strands out of his eyes as he finally rounded the corner that lead to his destination. Once he arrived at the café, he waited patiently in line, playing with the hem of his shirt while he decided what to order. He went with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a ham and swiss sandwich, with a cup of earl grey tea.

After he received his food, he took a seat at one of the small tables in the corner of the café and slowly began to eat. Bard soon discovered that he was not as hungry as he initially thought. The soup went down easily; the warmth of it was rather comforting, but he could not manage to stomach the sandwich. The taste wasn’t overly horrible; it was actually decent for something made at a hospital, but his stomach was coiled too tightly for the food to be satisfying.

Bard’s mind kept trailing off, wandering down a dark path, continuously worrying about Thranduil.  He wondered how Thranduil was feeling about everything that had just taken place and how he was faring all by himself during the examination. Bard had a vague idea of what the procedure entailed, but he did not let himself ponder the idea for more than a few seconds. It left him feeling helpless and guilty. He worried the most about his own actions, or lack thereof. Different scenarios kept playing in his head, ways he could’ve handled the situation better, things he could’ve done to prevent all of this from happening. He knew he hadn’t done everything he could have, but he listened to the police officers and stayed out of the way. But to him, that was not enough. Why had he become so frozen in fear to the point that he could not even move? He should have used his anger to the best of his ability and broken down the door. He should’ve stopped that fucker from hurting Thranduil. Why hadn’t he done what he truly wanted to do? He felt horrible for videotaping the scene from outside the window like some creeper. As quickly as the negative thoughts flooded his mind, the rational side of his brain tried to justify his actions. He did what he could and he should stop beating himself up over it. Everything had escalated so quickly, yet Bard’s body slowed down. He couldn’t fault himself for this. He was human, he couldn’t blame himself.

He continued taking small bites of his sandwich before giving up on trying to swallow altogether; his body was still in shock and it felt like there was now a permanent lump in his throat that no amount of food or tea could get rid of. He got up from the table, throwing out what he hadn’t managed to eat.

Clutching his cup of tea, Bard meandered the halls of the hospital, unsure what to do with himself. He needed to keep busy, needed the distraction. After he got tired of walking, he made his way back to the waiting room in the emergency department where he busied himself with a few games of solitaire on his phone. He hadn’t been paying attention to how much time had passed, but when his phone battery dropped to thirteen percent he stopped playing his game of solitaire. He didn’t want his phone to die. With his phone safely in his pocket, Bard crossed his arms in front of his chest as he leaned back into the seat, closing his eyes.

A light touch on his shoulder drew Bard back into reality. He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep. He squinted as he tried to open his eyes, the fluorescent light making it difficult for his eyes to adjust. For a moment he didn’t know where he was, but it all came back to him quickly and when he tilted his head he saw Thranduil standing at his side. Bard noticed that Thranduil was no longer wearing the same clothes as he was before. He had on the leggings and sweater he had picked out before they left his house and around his shoulders was the fuzzy black blanket. He was clutching his coat and scarf tightly in front of himself, as a child would hold onto a teddy bear while sleeping. And hooked over his shoulder was his bag. He looked tired and weary, so unlike the man Bard had first met at the pub all those days ago. Like the life had been drained from his soul.  

“Hey.” Thranduil mumbled, eyes locked upon the ground, blinking slowly.

“Hey.” Bard replied. He wasn’t sure what to say to Thranduil. Did it make sense to ask him how everything went, or was that inappropriate? Maybe find out if he wants something to eat now? Or should Bard take this time to ask Thranduil if he wanted to spend the night at his house? Before Bard could come up with the correct thing to say, Thranduil spoke.

“Can we go now?” he asked, swaying slightly back and forth, eyes closing as if he were about to nod off.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Bard stood up too fast, the blood rushing to his head as everything went black for a moment. He shook himself and held out a hand so he could take Thranduil’s bag. “Here, let me carry that. Put on your coat, it’s cold out.”

Thranduil did just that, pulling on his coat in mechanical motions, all the while keeping his eyes pinned straight ahead. He held his scarf in one hand and used the other to pull the blanket up over the top of his head.

Lightly, Bard grazed his hand over Thranduil’s back as they made their way for the exit in silence. Thranduil exhaled deeply when they stepped out into the cold winter air. Bard noticed that there was not much traffic on the road, prompting him to extract his phone from his pocket to check the time. It was almost eleven o’clock.

“Can we stop for cigarettes?” Thranduil’s voice echoed in the stillness.

“Yeah.” Bard agreed. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“I know. Fucking took forever.” Thranduil grumbled. “I need to shower now.”

“Okay, so we’ll stop at the gas station near your house, get a pack of smokes, then you can go shower. And then maybe get something to eat.”

Thranduil made a low humming noise. “Not hungry.”

Bard unlocked the car doors and put Thranduil’s bag into the back seat before sliding into the driver’s seat. It was easy to tell how uncomfortable Thranduil was sitting beside him, but Bard said nothing. What could he possibly say to make things better?

Without further thought, he put the key into the ignition, started the engine and backed out of the parking spot.

-*-*-

Thranduil leaned his head against the car window, letting out a shaky sigh. He wanted to disappear, to let the earth swallow him up and rob him of every memory he ever had. Take the good, take the bad, take everything. It didn’t matter anymore. Even pleasant memories had somehow become tainted, as if his current emotions were a virus, attacking all the healthy cells until everything was infected. It’s funny how the human mind could so easily stop functioning properly. How it could go from producing normal thoughts, to getting stuck repeating the same images over and over in alarmingly vivid quality.

He tried to hold himself together. After being attacked so brutally by Galion and then having to be scrutinized in such an invasive manner, holding himself together proved to be one of the most difficult things he’s ever had to do. Thranduil was fiending a cigarette, or two, or maybe even three. He hadn’t had this kind of nicotine craving in years.

Bard hadn’t spoken very often on the drive, much to Thranduil’s gratitude. They arrived at the gas station and Bard turned off the engine and looked over in Thranduil’s direction.

“What kind do you want?” Bard asked. Thranduil hadn’t expected Bard to go in for him, but he was truly glad that he wouldn’t have to face the silent judgment of whoever was inside the gas station. Seeing people’s reaction to his face was not something he wanted to endure.

“Uhh…can you get Benson and Hedges? King size.” Thranduil said robotically as he toyed with the ends of the blanket.

“Yup.” Bard got out of the car hurriedly and soon disappeared inside.

Thranduil kept his eyes down, not wanting to risk the possibility of accidentally catching a glimpse of himself in the side mirror, or of his reflection upon the window. He knew he must look awful, but actually having to look at himself would only further validate that this was in fact reality. For now, he kept shutting down every idea his brain was presenting to him as fact. Was it still considered denial if you were aware you were actively denying the truth?

_Beating is an effective method for punishing a whore. You’re the biggest whore I know._

Thranduil shuddered, pulling the blanket up over his face and closing his eyes tightly. Those words were burned into his memory, so vivid, so alive. He could almost hear Galion’s voice ringing in his ears as if that fucking asshole was right there behind him.

Just then, the door on the driver’s side opened and Bard slouched back into his seat. He held out the pack of cigarettes to Thranduil along with a small green lighter.

“Didn’t know if you needed a lighter or not, so I got one just in case.”

“Thanks.” Thranduil took the cigarettes and the lighter, holding them in his lap while Bard started the car. It was barely a two minute drive to Thranduil’s house from where they were.

Thranduil fumbled to tear open the plastic seal around the outside of the cigarette pack. His fingers kept shaking and they were too cold and damp to get a proper grip on the plastic. But eventually he got the pack opened and pulled out a cigarette, putting it between his lips.

“Don’t worry.” Thranduil murmured. “I won’t smoke it in here.”

“You can if you really need to.” Bard said, barely a whisper, and at that moment, Thranduil wondered what Bard must really think of him. Did he think he was weak, pathetic, a disgusting whore?

“It’s fine. We’ll be there in a sec.” He took the cigarette from his mouth, twirling it between his fingers, doing whatever he could to distract himself from his negative inner monologue.

In a few short moments, Bard turned onto Thranduil’s street. The closer they got to Thranduil’s house, the more his anxiety threatened to skyrocket. There was little now that could quash his feelings. They were pulling into the driveway and Thranduil felt his chest tighten. His breaths became shallow and he gripped the blanket with rigid fingers. Here he was, back at the scene of the fucking crime.

Upon seeing the house, every feeling and every sensation was now heightened. Thranduil swallowed hard and bit the inside of his cheek. It was as though the entire act was playing out in his head with just as much intensity as when it had happened mere hours ago. How had this all of a sudden become his life? Just this morning he was dancing around in the kitchen and now he felt he had been reduced to nothing. His days of baltering about without a care in the world were long gone.

Thranduil opened the car door and slid out, his fingers wound tightly into the blanket, grasping for any means of security he could find. Bard soon appeared as his side and they walked towards the front door with languid steps. Thranduil tried to turn down the volume of his thoughts as they approached the steps. Bard set his bag down and took a seat on the cold, hard concrete, patting at the spot next to him.

Thranduil sunk down, crouching beside Bard, letting himself soak in Bard’s body heat. He held the cigarette between his lips as he flicked at the lighter with trembling hands. He cursed silently when he couldn’t manage to get the damn thing lit. Bard reached over, taking the cigarette from Thranduil’s mouth with two fingers and the lighter with the other hand. Thranduil watched intently as Bard placed the cigarette between his lips, flicked the lighter and inhaled until the end turned a glowing orange colour in the darkness. Smoke billowed and swirled around the silhouette of Bard’s body before he exhaled slowly. He took another long drag and held the burning cigarette out so Thranduil could take it from him.

As soon as Thranduil drew a sharp inhale, the feelings hit him again like a thousand knives, stabbing at his chest. He exhaled and took another drag, hoping to fight away his feelings of disgust. It was a pointless fight, a battle he could not win. His mind was flooded with sensations he did not ask for.

How could he have let Galion have so much power over his body, over his mind? What kind of a person was he that he could not fight back? How was he so easily defeated? Why did Galion do this to him in the first place? Did he truly deserve such treatment? His eyes were fixed upon the slight swaying of the tree branches, but he saw nothing. His vision blurred and his face felt hot. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until he blinked and tears rolled down his chin, dripping onto the back of his hand. He took another drag, the smoke whirling into his eyes, causing them to burn. He felt Bard’s arm snake around his back, holding him securely. At first Thranduil’s body tensed, but then he let himself drown in Bard’s warmth. Thranduil leaned back into Bard’s touch, letting his head rest gently upon Bard’s shoulder as he held the cigarette between loose fingers.

Bard slid his hand beneath Thranduil’s, taking the cigarette from him. The smoke enveloped them, shielding them from the outside world. Thranduil closed his eyes but the tears did not stop. They left behind a stinging sensation upon his battered cheeks. He rubbed the back of his hand over his chin, trying to catch the falling tears. He had never cried in front of anyone before, not for any reason. He hadn't even cried in front of anyone when his wife died. But here in Bard’s embrace, he felt safe. He could let himself feel his own emotions without the fear of judgment. Bard stroked Thranduil’s back in calming motions before passing the cigarette back to him.

Thranduil smoked the rest of the cigarette until it was down to the filter, and then he stubbed it out on the step and dropped it next to him. Both of Bard’s arms were now wound around him, holding him close. It was then that his body was wracked with near constant shudders. The tears stung his eyes and he found he was barely able to breathe. The shuddering quickly turned to sobs, his entire body shaking violently under Bard’s hold.

“It’s okay, doll. I’m here. You’re not alone.” Bard whispered softly, the heat of his breath against the side of Thranduil’s head as a hand stroked up and down his arm gently.

Thranduil’s sobs had rendered him practically incoherent, unable to voice his thoughts.

“I-It’s- I- How c-could- Why d-did he--” Thranduil’s voice came out high-pitched and uneven, breaking with every sob. His sentences were fragmented, pieces of the puzzle he could not put together no matter how hard he tried. And what was he even trying to say anyway? There was nothing to say, yet if only he could string together his words then at least he would be able to vent.

“Shh.” Bard cooed in his ear. “It’s okay.” He kept speaking those words like a mantra.

“I-It’s my f-fault--”

“No, don’t say that. Nothing is your fault.”

“You deserve w-what you get, Thranduil.” Thranduil repeated Galion’s words. It was like acid on his tongue.

“No, you did not deserve this. No one deserves this. You deserve to be loved and respected and treated with kindness. You didn’t deserve this.” Bard spoke softly, leaning his head against Thranduil’s.

Once Thranduil’s tears had run dry, he sighed and focused on the sound of Bard’s steady breath. He needed to pull himself together and go take a shower. The hot water, the feeling of being clean, it would all help make him feel better. He had to try his best not to breakdown. So he pushed Galion’s words out of his mind and stood up slowly, with Bard following closely behind.

Thranduil was more than grateful that Bard was with him through all of this; though he had no idea how to express his gratitude without inevitably breaking down once again. Thranduil lingered on the doorstep for a few seconds before leaning into Bard’s chest and wrapping an arm around Bard’s back. They stood like that for a moment, Thranduil breathing deeply into Bard’s neck. Bard was gentle with him, stroking the back of his head softly and whispering words of encouragement in his ear.

They went into the house, both of them leaving their shoes on as Thranduil ignored the living room and lead them to the stairs. But Bard stopped before they reached the first step.

“Hey, I was thinking…” Bard began tentatively, chewing on his upper lip.

“Yeah?” Thranduil replied, continuing to walk up the stairs, drawing Bard along beside him.

“I was wondering if maybe you’d like to…I don’t know…spend the night at my house? I can’t imagine what it would be like to stay here alone. And I don’t want you to have to be all alone in this house…” Bard became quieter in the stillness of the house, his voice suddenly sounding much harsher than it had outside.

Stay at Bard’s house? God, Thranduil didn’t know what to say to that offer. While it would be nice to not have to be alone, Thranduil did not want to be more of a burden than he already was. He knew this must be stressful for Bard. The man had literally been thrown into this turmoil and hadn’t once complained. But Thranduil knew it couldn’t last. Who in the right mind would waste their time on such a lost cause? Thranduil was damaged goods; he knew that. What he and Bard had started in the past few weeks had come to a halt and no matter how much he wanted to be with Bard, right now it was just not possible. What did Bard expect of him? His expectations of Thranduil were probably too high, so high that Thranduil would always struggle to feel worthy. He didn’t need to be put on a pedestal. He would never be able to live up to it. So he sighed and shook his head before giving Bard his answer.

“I…don’t know if that’s the best idea.” Thranduil began when they reached the top of the stairs. “I wouldn’t want to impose. You have children. And a life.”

“It’s no problem at all. I want you to feel safe tonight.” Bard countered, a worried look looming in his eyes.

“I’ll be fine.” Thranduil dismissed, looking away. “I want to shower now.”

“Okay. Do you want me to wait here?” Bard asked once they entered Thranduil’s bedroom.

“Wherever you want.” Thranduil waved a hand, making his way to the ensuite bathroom. He was mortified that he had cried in front of Bard and even more mortified that he had let Galion assault him to begin with. He needed to scrub the disgust from his body, wash away his shame until his skin was raw and burning.

Thranduil undressed slowly once he had closed the bathroom door. He ignored the mirror as best he could. He hadn’t even taken a proper look at his face yet. Despite trying to keep his eyes pinned to the floor, his gaze crept in the direction of the mirror. His curiosity was getting the best of him. So he shuffled over in front of the mirror and finally got a good look at himself.

What a fucking nightmare. Thranduil flinched when he took in the image of his swollen face. He let his fingers wander up and lightly brush over his wounds as if touching them would somehow make the sight become real. He still felt like he was living in a dream, like none of this way actually real, that maybe if he tried hard enough he would wake up. Feeling his own skin beneath his fingertips made his breath hitch in his throat. Was he really looking at himself? His eyes fixed upon the gauze bandage on his forehead. He wanted to take it off so he could see the stitches and the place they had shaved off his hair. But he didn’t. He felt violently ill.

He finally looked away, stepped into the shower and washed himself thoroughly. He took extra pains washing his hair, making sure he didn’t aggravate the stitches near his hairline. After his hair was washed, he scooped handfuls of an abrasive sugar scrub from a large jar and slathered it over his body. He rubbed at his skin in rough motions, wincing as the scrub stung at the scrapes and cuts littered upon his body. The heat of the water burned the welts on his back, but he did not move from under the showerhead.

As he embraced the burning sensation upon his skin, he considered Bard’s offer. It was so typical of Thranduil to decline, so like him to push away any form of kindness. As much as he didn’t want to be a burden to Bard, he also really did not want to spend the night all alone in this haunted house. Galion’s presence was everywhere, making it hard for Thranduil to think of anything besides him. Maybe it would be okay to stay with Bard.

He stepped out of the shower once the stinging finally became unbearable and dried himself off gingerly. There was no reason to change into new clothes; he put back on the same comfortable leggings and sweater that he had changed into after his examination at the hospital. He took his time towel drying his hair and then plaited it into a braid. He wasn’t going to waste time blow drying it; there was no point.

After staring at himself in the mirror for a few more minutes, he finally emerged from the bathroom to find Bard sitting on his bed. The sight of Bard on his bed caused his chest to tighten. If circumstances were different maybe he would be there in bed with Bard instead of fighting a losing battle with his mind. But Thranduil could not change the reality of the situation, so he merely sighed and shot Bard a feigned smile.

“Thanks for waiting.” Thranduil murmured, playing with the ends of his hair.

Bard smiled back at him and stood from the bed, Thranduil’s favourite black blanket draped over his shoulders, soaking in his scent. “Of course.” Bard said, pulling the blanket off his shoulders and approaching Thranduil, who still stood by the bathroom door. Bard wrapped the blanket around Thranduil and touched his cheek gently. “So beautiful.” He whispered before pulling Thranduil into a tender embrace.

“No.” Thranduil mumbled into Bard’s neck. He was not beautiful. Not even close. He was a fucking mess; he looked horrible. How could Bard think he was beautiful?

“Yes. Always beautiful.” Bard pulled away, his eyes closed.

Thranduil hummed, unsure how to respond to such a false statement. He ran his fingers through the ends of his braid once again, gulping as he tried to gather his courage. Bard opened his eyes as if he could sense that Thranduil had something important to say. “I think I’m going to take you up on your offer. If it still stands…” Thranduil said, surprised that he was actually able to maintain eye contact with Bard.

“Of course it stills stands.”

“Thank you, Bard.”

“Anything you need, Thran. I’m right here.” Bard hugged Thranduil gently.

“You’re too kind to me.”

“What did I tell you?”

“I still don’t believe it…”

“You deserve…” Bard started, prompting Thranduil to finish his sentence.

“I know. All the kindness in the world.”

“Exactly. So don’t for a second think that I won’t give you everything you deserve.”

“Thanks.” Thranduil let out a sharp exhale, burying his face into the crook of Bard’s neck. He couldn’t fathom the idea of being so well taken care of. For years Thranduil had become so used to being treated like his thoughts and feelings were invalid. Being treated as if he mattered was almost a foreign concept to him.

“We should get going then.” Bard said, letting go of Thranduil. “You need to eat something. I’ll make something when we get to my house.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to. And you need to eat.”

“Only something small though.”

“Yes, as long as you get some food in you.”

“Let me get some stuff.” Thranduil said, pulling away from Bard and padding back into the bathroom to grab a toothbrush, toothpaste and his hairbrush.

He put a change of clothes into his bag, along with his toiletries and when he was ready he motioned for Bard to follow. He scanned over the room a final time and then turned off the lights before he and Bard made their way back down stairs.

They didn’t linger very long; Thranduil avoided the living room at all costs. He slipped on his coat, made sure he had his cell phone and charger, as well as the pack of cigarettes which he had put into his coat pocket. Then, they left the house and got into Bard’s car.

Bard kept the radio off on the drive and Thranduil didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The silence weighed down on him, and because Bard did not speak, Thranduil was alone with his thoughts. He ruminated over what had transpired at the hospital. Everything he had undergone had left him physically and mentally drained. The examination was an even more invasive procedure than Thranduil had expected. After being violated in such a crude way by Galion, he hadn’t thought things could get much worse, but being poked and prodded and photographed had proven him wrong. Things could always get worse. It seemed like no matter which direction his mind wandered it always ended up going down a negative route. He didn’t want to think anymore. So he reached over to turn on the radio.

Bard glanced at him, brows knit together. “You want music?” he questioned.

“If you don’t mind.” Thranduil didn’t know which button was the one that would turn on the radio, so he let Bard do it.

Thranduil didn’t even register what song was playing; he didn’t care. All that mattered was that the sound was helping to distract him. He noticed how stiff and tense his body was so he forced himself to relax into the car seat. He was still in pain but fortunately the doctors had given him painkillers.  He had also been given Ativan when he first met with them because he was on the verge of having a panic attack. The medication helped calm him while he was at the hospital, but now that it was wearing off he could feel how rigid his posture was and all the wounds on his back began to sting with each small shift he made in the seat. He tried his best to stay still, focusing only on his breathing.

Thranduil mentally cursed Galion for not bothering with lube. It made such a cruel act even crueler. God, he was sore. But this was one thing Thranduil would not complain about. It was far too embarrassing. Even thinking about it humiliated him. One thought led to the next and Thranduil was left wondering exactly what had happened to Galion. He was arrested; that much Thranduil was sure of. But would he get out by the morning? Did he need to post bail? Thranduil had made his statements to the cops but now it was up to him to press charges. He needed to contact a lawyer and likely relive his trauma over and over, telling and retelling his story until Galion was convicted and put in prison. Would it even go that far? Would Galion actually go to prison and if he did, how long would he be there? The fucking pig needed to be locked up for life.

A sputtering sigh escaped Thranduil’s lips. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath for so long. The sound drew Bard’s attention and he looked over at Thranduil for a brief moment before letting his eyes trail back to the road.

“You alright?” Bard asked.

“I should probably stop thinking.” Thranduil mumbled. He was annoyed with himself now. He was wasting Bard’s time. Bard could’ve been asleep by now, not here in the car taking care of some pathetic abuse victim. Bard probably had to censor everything he said for fear of offending Thranduil. It irked Thranduil that Bard was going out of his way for him. It shouldn’t be like this. Thranduil did not want to be a burden to anyone, let alone Bard, the man he had been pining over. How were they ever supposed to have a relationship now?

“I think it’s impossible to stop thinking.” Bard mused. “If you want to talk about anything, you can. But if you don’t then that’s okay, too. I just want you to know I’m here to listen if you need to someone to vent to.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Thranduil sighed. He wanted to reach out and hold Bard’s hand, but he wouldn’t dare. “Are we soon there?”

“Less than five minutes away.”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep when we get there. But you really should eat something first.”

“I’ll eat something and then I’ll sleep.” Thranduil agreed. “Where am I going to sleep? I hate being in the way.”

“Thran, you’re not in the way. Not at all. I have a spare bedroom in the basement. So you can sleep there. And if you aren’t comfortable in the basement then you can take my bed and I’ll sleep in the basement.”

“No, no. The basement is fine.” There was no way Thranduil was going to take Bard’s bed. He was already enough of an inconvenience. He wasn’t going to make Bard give up his bed.

“Okay. It’s nice and cool down there, so I think you’ll sleep well. Sigrid put on fresh sheets so everything is clean and ready.”

“Your oldest daughter, right?”

“Yes, that’s her.”

“Will they be awake when we get there?” Thranduil asked, worried that Bard’s children would have to see the state of his face, and even more worried that he would have to see them and have no idea what to say.

“No. They’re sleeping now. My son, Bain, is out for the night, Tilda has been asleep for a while now and Sigrid texted me while you were showering to tell me that she was heading to bed. So you don’t have to worry about them.”

“You know, I would love to meet them. But this is just…not the best timing.” Thranduil said, knowing that his words didn’t convey the gravity the situation.

“I know. You can always meet them another time under better conditions. They’ll likely wake up late tomorrow morning so if you want to leave before they wake up then that’s fine with me.”

“Yes. I’ll do that.” Thranduil groaned. “Back home.”

“Speaking of home…we’re here.” Bard said, turning into the driveway.

Thranduil blinked, taking in the sight of Bard’s home as he got out of the car. It was a comfortable sized two storey house with white clapboard siding that had definitely seen better days. It was hard to make out in the darkness, but it appeared as though the door was painted a muted shade of red which matched the two chairs sitting on the small porch. There were neglected potted plants on either side of the chairs and a lantern sitting beside the door. Hung on the door was a wreath made of twigs and autumn leaves. The outdoor lights were warm and inviting, not cold like the ones at Thranduil’s house.

Thranduil came into the house behind Bard, keeping his eyes down as he stepped out of his shoes. Bard took off his own coat and helped Thranduil out of his and then hung both coats on a rack beside the door. The air inside smelled pleasantly of baked goods. Thranduil could detect a hint of cinnamon and somehow the scent helped calm his nerves. He followed Bard into a small living room off to the left of the main entrance. There was a lot of clutter. Almost every nook and cranny was filled with children’s things. Books were littered about on the coffee table and magazines were stacked beside the arm of the couch. There were various shoes in the living room and children’s school bags were placed against the far wall. A few articles of clothing were strewn over the backs of chairs and a quilt was hung over the back of the couch, frayed and worn around the edges.

Bard’s house felt very cozy and lived in, so different from Thranduil’s house in which everything was perfectly in place and always well organized. Bard’s house really felt like a home, where people actually lived, whereas Thranduil’s looked more like a show home from a décor magazine. Being in Bard’s house made Thranduil feel safe. It was a family home, a place where everyone could feel secure.

“You want some porridge and tea?” Bard asked. Thranduil stopped looking around and directed his attention towards Bard.

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

“Not much in the way of tea. Is chamomile okay?”

“Yes, chamomile is good.” Thranduil replied, still standing beside the coffee table, gazing around the room.

“Okay. I’ll be right back. You can have a seat on the couch if you want.” Bard said, smiling at Thranduil before disappearing under a small archway into what must be the kitchen.

Thranduil sunk down onto the couch, trying to get comfortable. He had his blanket with him, so he wrapped it around his shoulders, trying to absorb all the warmth he could. He let his eyes trail off around the room once again, now noticing several pictures upon the shelves and hung neatly on the walls. All pictures of children during different stages of life. There were school pictures, pictures from what looked to be a soccer field, a family photograph which Thranduil couldn’t make out from where he was sitting. The woman was most definitely Bard’s ex-wife, but Thranduil didn’t get up to take a closer look. He looked over towards the stairs on the opposite side of the entrance and then looked up at the ceiling as if he could sense the children’s presence in the house.

“You want a muffin?” Bard poked his head around the corner. “Sigrid must have made some tonight. Blueberry oatmeal with cinnamon.” Ah, so that’s what Thranduil could smell. He did want a muffin, he just didn’t know if he would actually be able to eat it.

“I’ll try one.” Thranduil said.

Bard had a muffin in his hand when he approached. He handed it to Thranduil along with a napkin. “There you go. Eat what you can. Porridge and tea are soon ready.”

Thranduil hummed in acknowledgment and began to break the muffin apart into small pieces. He put a piece into his mouth, chewing it slowly. It really did taste good. If he didn’t feel so sick right now he would’ve probably wolfed it down in mere seconds. But right now, his stomach was fighting against him, making it difficult to swallow anything. Still, he continued eating the small pieces one by one.

Once Thranduil had eaten half of the muffin, Bard appeared from the kitchen, holding two bowls. He placed Thranduil’s porridge on the table in front of him and set the other bowl next to it. Then he shuffled back into the kitchen. When he emerged the second time, he brought with him two cups of tea. Thranduil took one cup from Bard and blew on it but did not take a sip yet. The mug was very hot and Thranduil did not want to burn his mouth. He didn’t need any more wounds.

“Thank you, Bard.” He whispered in between blowing on his tea.

“You’re welcome.” Bard said, taking a seat beside Thranduil on the couch. Bard stirred his porridge for a moment and then stopped. “Oh, do you want anything to put on the porridge?”

“Maybe cinnamon and brown sugar, if you have it.” Thranduil replied, hoping he didn’t sound too demanding.

Bard ducked back into the kitchen and reappeared so quickly that Thranduil had barely even noticed his absence. He set two glass containers onto the table and passed a spoon to Thranduil so he could scoop the desired amount of cinnamon and brown sugar onto his porridge. He sprinkled a few spoonfuls of each and placed the spoon back on a napkin on the table and began eating. Each bite was slow and calculated. He chewed each spoonful at least ten times before swallowing, when normally only two bites would have sufficed. Getting anything down had become a chore. But the porridge tasted good and the way it warmed his stomach was comforting.

Thranduil could feel Bard’s presence beside him, eating just as slowly as Thranduil was, in between sips of his tea. It was only after Bard had taken a sip from his own mug that Thranduil remembered his tea. So he clasped the mug between both hands, blew on it and took a small sip to make sure it wasn’t scalding. When he was sure that the temperature was fine, he drank a bit more and then tried to finish off the rest of his porridge. Bard finished before him, setting the bowl onto the table. Thranduil could feel that Bard had slid closer to him; whether it was on purpose or by accident Thranduil was not sure. He liked to hope that it was on purpose.

Two scoops of porridge were all that remained in Thranduil’s bowl but he found he could not eat anymore. He rested the spoon inside the bowl and leaned backwards into the couch cushions. He tried curling his legs up against his chest, but quickly shifted into a more comfortable position. His entire body was still sore, so finding a position to sit in proved to be rather difficult. He contemplated fishing around in his bag for the painkillers but that would mean he would have to move to reach his bag. Moving seemed too great an effort, especially since he had finally gotten relaxed.

He tucked his right leg beneath himself, and crossed the left leg over his right knee. To anyone else it would have appeared to be the most uncomfortable position possible, but oddly enough, it was the position that brought him the least amount of pain.

It was then that Thranduil felt Bard scoot even closer to him as one hand rested on his shoulder. Bard rubbed his hand in soothing motions, running it along the back of Thranduil’s neck, pulling him into an embrace. Thranduil leaned into Bard’s side, savouring the feeling of Bard’s hand kneading his upper arm. Thranduil let his head fall upon Bard’s shoulder, pulling the elastic from the end of his braid and combing his fingers through the damp strands. He sighed softly when Bard’s breath mingled with the loose strands of hair that fell between them like a curtain.

It felt nice to be held so gently, to allow himself to relax, feeling comforted and safe in Bard’s arms. After Thranduil finished his tea, Bard extracted the mug from his hands, barely jostling Thranduil when he reached out his arm to set the empty mug upon the table. Thranduil let his eyes fall shut, his breath slowing in time with Bard’s. His body began feeling heavy and before he knew it he was drifting to sleep in Bard’s arms.

Thranduil didn’t know how long he had been asleep for, but he felt himself being pulled up from the couch and guided down a short hallway. His eyes were hazy, still half closed as Bard led him down a flight of stairs, supporting most of Thranduil’s weight on the walk down.

In his state of semi-consciousness, Thranduil felt his body come in contact with a firm mattress. He exhaled, letting himself sink into the cool sheets as a blanket was draped over top of him. The warmth of Bard at his side was suddenly gone and he reached out, craving the touch, the security. But luckily, in a matter of seconds he felt the heat of another body beside him once again, an arm winding behind his neck, pulling him closer. Thranduil clutched the blanket, twisting his legs around it as he shifted closer to Bard, leaning his head upon Bard’s chest. The rise and fall of Bard’s chest was soothing, helping him drift back to sleep without another thought.

Thranduil woke with a jolt, his heart hammering in his chest, eyes wide open as his brain tried to piece together where he was. His hands grasped at the bed sheets and finally he realized that he was not at home. This was not his bed, these were not his sheets. His blanket was twined around his leg, but that’s all that he had that was his own. Suddenly, he remembered what had happened to him. He knew he was in the bedroom in Bard’s basement. He remembered falling asleep beside Bard. He remembered exactly what had occurred that led to him being here at Bard’s house. It all felt like a nightmare, but Thranduil hadn’t dreamt of anything or at least he could not remember dreaming. This was real. His body was aching now that he thought about it. A labored sigh left his lips and he shifted his position so he could reach down to the floor where he remembered Bard left his bag. He felt around for his phone and when he finally found it, he checked the time. It was only a few minutes past five a.m.

It crossed Thranduil’s mind to text Bard and ask him to come down stairs. He missed the feeling of strong arms holding him and he longed to feel Bard’s gentle embrace once more. It was all Thranduil had right now to take his mind off the things he’d rather not be thinking of. Being near Bard was a pleasant way to distract his mind. It also didn’t hurt that he had, somewhere along the line, developed feelings for Bard, feelings that were too strong to ignore, feelings that he almost felt guilty for having.

Thranduil yawned, sinking his head back into the pillow. He quickly abandoned the idea of texting Bard. It wasn’t likely that Bard would be awake this early and Thranduil didn’t want to wake him up for such an inane reason. So, knowing it would be difficult getting back to sleep, Thranduil fetched his headphones from his bag and plugged them into his phone. He searched through his songs, stopping on Sonata no. 14 by Beethoven. He turned the volume down low, and let the music help to relax his body and mind.

Thranduil didn’t remember falling back to sleep and the next time he woke it was almost seven o’clock. His music was still playing but one headphone had fallen out of his ear, and the song that was on now was a very angry song that he did not want to hear. It was probably that damned song that woke him up; even subconsciously, he didn’t want to listen to it. He tossed his phone and headphones on the top of his bag before curling around his blanket, inhaling its familiar scent. He was no longer tired but didn’t want to venture upstairs in fear of accidentally running into Bard’s children. Thranduil decided he would just stay in bed, hoping that he would soon hear Bard rustling around upstairs. That would be his cue to get up. For now, he wasn’t going to move.

From the floor, his phone buzzed – the telltale sign that he received a text message. His automatic thought was that Galion was texting him. He shook that notion from his mind, and turned to pick his phone up from atop his bag. To his relief, it was only Haldir texting him. And it appeared that this was not the first message Haldir had sent. Thranduil must have missed his other texts from last night. He groaned in frustration as he looked over the messages. He had no idea how to respond to his friend.

[From: Haldir] 11:04pm – So?? Tell me

[From: Haldir] 11:10pm – Thrandypants. Thrandizzle. Do not ignore me. Unless you’re in bed with your lover.

[From: Haldir] 11:56pm – So RUDE.

[From: Haldir] 6:45am – Why does your son insist on waking up so goddamn early on a weekend?!

[From: Haldir] 7:01am – Call me when you wake up. I wanna know how your date went!

What was Thranduil supposed to say to that? How did his date go? Was he supposed to be honest and say that it never really got a chance to happen? That Galion had asserted himself and ruined everything like he always did? There was no easy way to tell Haldir what happened. And Thranduil worried that if he told Haldir the full truth that Haldir’s reaction would end up scaring Legolas. This was not something Thranduil was going to admit to over a text message. No, this had to be done in person. As much as Thranduil did not want to talk about it, he knew he couldn’t evade Haldir’s questions. There was no way to lie about it once Haldir got a look at Thranduil’s face. Although, he could just say he got into a ‘fight’ with Galion, and nothing more. He didn’t have to include the sexual assault part of it. He could pretend that never happened. Finally, Thranduil mustered up the courage and began to type his reply.

[To: Haldir] 7:10am – Hey. Date was fine. Can you come by to drop off L around 11am?

Well, that wasn’t very convincing. Thranduil cringed at his response, but it was too late to take it back now that it was already sent. Just as he set his phone down amongst the sheets, it buzzed again.

[From: Haldir] 7:11am – Thran? You’re talking weird. Whats up?

[To: Haldir] 7:12am – Sorry. I’m fine. I need to tell you something when you come over.

[From: Haldir] 7:12am – K. You’re kinda scaring me.

[To: Haldir] 7:13am – Don’t worry about it now. So you’ll come by at 11?

[From: Haldir] 7:13am – Yeah. I’ll be there with Legs. I hope you’re ok…

[To: Haldir] 7:14am – I’m alright. Please don’t worry.

God. It was more than annoying how Haldir was able to, so easily, uncover the fact that something was not right. But then again, Thranduil knew he was not texting the way he normally did. Haldir was just better at picking up on those signals than most people. Still, it irked Thranduil that he was not doing a better job of hiding his emotions.

Thankfully, Haldir did not continue messaging him, so Thranduil set his phone next to him and leaned his head back into the pillow, listening for any sounds from upstairs. He heard nothing, so he closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. He didn’t want to think about what he was going to have to tell Haldir, or how Legolas would react upon seeing Thranduil’s wounds. It was best to just let it unfold in whatever way it would. Planning these kinds of conversations rarely made them turn out any better, so Thranduil forced himself to stop fretting and quickly changed his train of thought.

He grabbed his bag from the floor and fished out the small bottle of painkillers. He poured out two pills into the palm of his hand and noticed a bottle of water on the side table that Bard must have left there for him last night. Without another though, he swiped the bottle of water and popped the pills into his mouth, taking a few gulps of water to wash them down. He ended up chugging the water, not realizing just how thirsty he truly was until the water had hit the back of his throat.

Sitting back against the headboard, Thranduil’s eyes shifted between the dull blue colour of the wall and the bit of light coming in from under the door. He wondered how long it would take before Bard woke up, and whether or not Bard would come downstairs to see him. It would be awkward to have to make his way upstairs by himself, not knowing who would possibly greet him on the other side of the basement door. He let himself drift in and out of consciousness, vision blurring as sleep took over once again.

Footsteps from above woke Thranduil up. And within seconds he could hear those same steady footsteps upon the stairs, slowly approaching the room he was in. The sound of a light knock on the door caused him to sit up upon his elbows, blinking a few times as if he was still in a dream.

“Thran?” Bard’s voice echoed through the door.

Thranduil only hummed, unsure of his own voice after not using it for so long. Bard must have heard him because the door pushed open a crack. Tendrils of light entered the room before Bard peeked his head around the corner and smiled at Thranduil.

“Are you awake?” Bard asked, pausing before taking a step into the room.

“Mmm.” Thranduil nodded, and then waved a hand, signaling to Bard that it is okay for him to approach.

Bard was wearing a plain white tank top and a pair of plaid pajama pants, his hair was tousled and it looked like he had quite literally just rolled out of bed. Despite feeling like shit, Thranduil managed to smile at Bard, who took a seat on the edge of the bed and reached his hand over to Thranduil.

Thranduil took Bard’s hand without hesitation and scooted over a bit, tapping on the empty space with his free hand, gesturing for Bard to sit beside him.  He beckoned Bard closer with the pull of his wrist, gently curling up into Bard’s side. They stayed like that for a while, their steady breathing the only sound filling the silence around them. Bard kept his arm wrapped tightly around Thranduil until Thranduil finally shifted and sat up.

“What time is it?” Thranduil asked.

“It was just past eight when I came down.” Bard said. He tilted his head, looking at Thranduil through tired eyes.

“I should probably go soon.” Thranduil mused, playing with the ends of the blanket.

“I’ll drive you whenever you want.”

Thranduil gave Bard a small smile and crawled beside him, letting Bard’s arm envelop him once more. Thranduil did not want to leave the safety of Bard’s embrace. He didn’t want to have to go back to his house and face the truth of the situation he was trapped in. He would rather stay with Bard for as long as he could, hiding from reality, but he knew he could not do this forever. He could only linger for so long.

Eventually, Thranduil got up and began to collect his things. Bard got off the bed and handed the black blanket to Thranduil and together they made their way up the stairs. The early morning light shone through the windows, casting strange shadows upon the floor. The entire interior of the house looked different compared to how it looked in the dim yellow lighting Thranduil had witnessed the night before. The stark contrast sent a pang of unease to the pit of Thranduil’s stomach. Last night his mind had been clouded in denial, but now it was time to face what he so desperately tried to escape.

“Did you want any breakfast?” Bard offered.

“No, thanks. I’m fine. You’ve done enough for me, Bard.” Thranduil said, slipping his feet into his shoes as Bard grabbed his coat for him. He felt guilty for taking up so much of Bard’s time. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

Bard waved a hand. “There’s no need to repay me. I’m here whenever you need me. I hope you know that.” Bard put on his own coat and shoes and opened the front door, letting Thranduil step out in front of him.

“Well…thank you.” Thranduil said. His thanks didn’t feel like enough. Mere words could not convey how grateful he truly was for all Bard’s support.

“You’re welcome.” Bard smiled as they made their way to his car.

The drive back to Thranduil’s house was quiet. The radio was playing lowly in the background, and every now and then Bard would hum and tap his fingers along to the beat of the music. Thranduil smiled at Bard’s actions. Everything that Bard did, every move he made, only helped to make Thranduil feel more comfortable around him. Thranduil wondered if Bard was actively trying to make him feel safe or if it just came naturally.  Thranduil figured it was just his disposition; he was a father of three after all – a natural protector.

As soon as Bard pulled into Thranduil’s driveway, anxiety fought its way into Thranduil’s chest, making it harder for him to breathe. He had to fight to keep his sanity and not let his thoughts take over completely. Seeing the house made him sick. He wanted to burn the fucking place to the ground. Wipe it clean off the face of the earth.

“Are you okay?” Bard asked, picking up on the change in Thranduil’s breathing. “I can come in with you if you want…”

“I’ll be alright.” Thranduil said through clenched teeth. “I’ll be fine.” He said the words again as if trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Bard. He just had to keep repeating to himself that it would be okay, and maybe it would be.

“You can call me anytime if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise me.” Bard said, clutching Thranduil’s hand in his own.

Thranduil looked Bard in the eyes and nodded. “I promise.”

Bard huffed. “I really don’t want to leave you alone here. It doesn’t feel right.”

“I have to clean up the disaster inside before Haldir brings Legolas home.”

“I could help you.” Bard suggested.

“I don’t know…”

“Look, Thran, you know I feel horrible for not being able to help you before, so please let me help you now. It’s the least I can do.”

“You’ve already done so much, Bard.” Thranduil sighed in exasperation. He didn’t want Bard to have to be forced to help him clean his own fucking blood off the floors. He wouldn’t make Bard do such a thing.

“I know it must be hard for you to be here right now and to have to clean up the house by yourself. What kind of a person would I be if I left you to do that all alone? Let me help, please.”

“But there’s blood all over the floor. _My_ blood.” Thranduil said, barely a whisper. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. I care about you and I want to make this easier for you.”

It seemed Bard would not back down, so Thranduil reluctantly nodded his head. “Okay then. I guess you’ve already seen me at my worst. What’s a little more blood?” He let out a rueful chuckle. “Let’s go then.”

So together, Bard carrying Thranduil’s bag and Thranduil fumbling with his pack of cigarettes, they got out of the car and made their way to the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think Haldir's reaction is going to be? And Legolas?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cleaning, eating, drinking...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am slower than the second coming of christ. And I do not have a title for this yet. I'll find one later!
> 
> I'm in the middle of the 11 days in a row at work so I'm surprised I actually had time to write.
> 
> This is long again. I don't know what a 6k chapter is anymore. Enjoy Haldir!
> 
> OHH and thank you to EldritchMage for helping we with so many parts of this chapter! <3<3 (Haldir says hi from the closet)

Bard sat on the doorstep while Thranduil fished a cigarette out of the pack and promptly lit it. Bard watched with intent eyes, not scrutinizing, but merely wondering what exactly was going through Thranduil’s mind. All Bard wanted to do was be of help, in whatever way he could. It took some effort to get Thranduil to agree to let him stay and help with the cleanup of his house, but Bard was glad that he had persisted. He didn’t believe that Thranduil truly wanted to be left alone; only that being alone would be easier for him right now. But in the long run it would only make things more difficult. Bard wanted Thranduil to know that he had someone who would support him and be there for him no matter what.

While Thranduil paced around on the lawn smoking his cigarette, Bard toyed with the straps on Thranduil’s bag, doing anything to keep his hands busy. He wondered if he looked as out of place as he felt. Could Thranduil tell that Bard had absolutely no idea what he was doing? He felt like a fish out of water, struggling to figure out what his next move would be. Bard let his eyes trail back to Thranduil, who was taking short and quick pulls of the cigarette, exhaling through his nose. Bard hoped that by getting Thranduil to agree to let him stay and help that he wasn’t getting in Thranduil’s way. He worried about it for a brief moment, but then told himself that it was better that he was here. Leaving Thranduil alone wasn’t a good idea.

Bard made a mental note to call Sigrid shortly to let her know that he was at Thranduil’s house and would be back before dinner. It didn’t feel right to leave the children alone for so long, especially when tomorrow was a school day. There were still things that needed to be done at home. Bard needed to do the laundry, turn on the dishwasher, clean the bathrooms, make sure the children had all completed their homework for tomorrow and think about what he was going to make for dinner tonight. Another thing that had been at the back of his mind was Madison and the divorce. Bard was still worried that she may show up uninvited to the house while he was gone and the children were alone. Although Sigrid was old enough to watch over them, it still didn’t sit right with Bard.

“You want one?” Thranduil’s voice drew Bard from his reverie.

“Hmm?” He said, regarding Thranduil, who was pulling yet another cigarette out of the pack.

“I’m having another. You want one?” Thranduil clarified before putting the cigarette between his lips. He flicked the lighter a few times, cupping one hand around the cigarette before a cloud of smoke billowed from his mouth.

“No thanks. I don’t normally smoke.” Bard said. He must have given Thranduil the wrong impression last night when he started the cigarette and had a few drags.

“Oh. Neither do I.” Thranduil swayed back and forth before he started pacing in circles. His excessive movement was enough to make Bard dizzy.

“I used to. Quit years ago though.”

“Yeah, same. A year after Legolas was born.”

“You were what, only twenty then?”

“Yeah. I started smoking when I was thirteen or fourteen. I would steal them from my dad.” Thranduil said, drawing a smile from Bard’s lips. He could picture Thranduil as a teenager, a defiant rebel.

“I quit a few years after Tilda was born. But I didn’t start young like you. I probably only had my first smoke when I was eighteen.” Bard shrugged. He was glad Thranduil was actually talking more openly now, despite the strange subject matter. Bard figured it was good to talk about something so mundane so Thranduil could have a distraction and not have to focus on whatever was going on in his head. Thranduil put on a brave face; it was obvious, but Bard was concerned about just how much he was hiding below the surface.

“I can picture you on a motorcycle with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth.” Thranduil smiled, but Bard couldn’t tell if it was a real smile or if Thranduil merely put it on for show.

“I actually have a bike.”

“No shit.”

“I do. Haven’t had it out in a while. Gonna bring it out this spring. Got some repairs to do but then it’ll be all set to drive.” Bard said, watching the way Thranduil inhaled the smoke, held it and let it trickle out of his mouth while he spoke.

“I had a feeling you were the motorcycle type.” Thranduil took one last drag of his cigarette before stomping it out on the driveway beside the other one.

“Am I that obvious?” Bard chuckled.

“A little.”

Bard went to stand up, figuring now that Thranduil had finished his second smoke that he would be ready to go inside, but instead Thranduil gazed in the direction of the road as if he was searching for something.

“You ready?” Bard asked, clutching Thranduil’s bag in his right hand.

“Not particularly. I’d rather have another cigarette and sit outside all day.” Thranduil kept his back to Bard, eyes focusing somewhere on the road, or the trees, Bard wasn’t sure.

“The sooner we clean the house, the sooner we can come back outside.”

Thranduil groaned and turned to face Bard with a glower on his face. “Fuck. I’m really not in the mood to deal with this shit.”

And just like that tension found its way back into the air. The mood had gone from comfortable conversation to somber trepidation.

“I can do it if you want. I mean how much is there to clean up?” Bard knew he had to do something to ease Thranduil’s dread. He was prepared to do whatever Thranduil would allow.

“My fucking blood on the floor. Thank god I don’t have carpet.” Thranduil mumbled, more to himself than to Bard.

“Let’s just go inside and make some tea or something.” Bard suggested, being careful not to sound too aggressive. It was not his intention to force Thranduil into the house, but he knew that it would be better to clean up before Thranduil’s son got back.

Bard assumed Thranduil’s friend would be the one dropping his son off, which only made the knots in Bard’s stomach coil tighter in anticipation. Apparently, he would be meeting Thranduil’s friend whether he wanted to or not.

Beside him, Thranduil inhaled a sharp breath, exhaled deeply and then looked at the door. “Alright then. Let’s go. Everything will be fine.” Thranduil uttered the words quietly, as if giving himself a silent pep talk before they entered the house.

Bard took it upon himself to open the door and step into the house first, hoping that Thranduil would follow shortly after. When Bard got in and had taken off his coat he noticed that Thranduil still hadn’t come inside, so he peered back out the door, nodded his head and waved for Thranduil to enter.

“C’mon. It’ll be okay.” Bard said in a hushed tone. He didn’t know why he was speaking so low, it wasn’t as if he had to keep his voice down. No one else was here.

“Okay.” Thranduil held his breath and stepped past the threshold. Bard observed Thranduil without saying anything. He noticed that Thranduil’s posture had become more rigid and he kept his head facing away from the direction of the living room – where the assault had occurred.

Since Thranduil hadn’t bothered to remove his shoes, Bard kept his on as well. The house felt cold. Thranduil kept his blanket wound tightly around himself, clutching it with hands in front of his chest.

“So… what do you want me to do?” Bard inquired. He wasn’t sure where to begin. Did he just march into the living room and start putting things back in order? Did he go to the kitchen to get paper towel and cleaner so he could wipe up Thranduil’s dried blood from the hardwood floor?

“We’ll need formaldehyde.” Thranduil said, deadpan.

“Formaldehyde?”

“Or bleach.”

“I was just thinking Mr. Clean.” Bard said. He could fully admit he knew nothing about cleaning products.

“I guess we’ll start with that and then I can get bleach if we need it.”

Bard hummed. He didn’t know if Thranduil was being serious or not. Would they really need bleach? But before he could respond, Thranduil spoke.

“So, I will clean and you can…make tea?”

Bard pondered that for a second. He didn’t think it would be a good idea for Thranduil to be scrubbing up his own blood. That would probably be very triggering for him, and Bard wanted to keep him calm. There was no need to heighten his anxiety for no reason. Bard would clean it. “Why don’t I clean up and you make the tea?”

“No. I can’t have that.” Thranduil dismissed. His mask was slipping. Bard could tell that he struggled more and more to hold himself together.

“Can I hug you?” Bard asked, ignoring Thranduil’s protests about who would clean and who would make tea.

Thranduil sighed. “Please.” His voice was quiet now, barely above a whisper.

Bard stepped forward, wrapping both arms snugly around Thranduil’s body, holding him close but not too close for fear of hurting him. “Will you let me do this for you, doll? Please?” He stroked the back of Thranduil’s hair, tangling his fingers into the soft strands.

Thranduil rested his chin on Bard’s shoulder, breathing heavily into his ear. When he gulped, it was loud enough for Bard to hear it. “You barely know me, Bard. Yet you are willing to do so much for me.”

“I want to help you, Thran. I care about you, probably more than you know. I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t.” Thranduil murmured, breathing deeply into Bard’s neck. “The very opposite, actually.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Bard held him closer, rocking from side to side as he rubbed his hand in circles upon Thranduil’s back. Thranduil drew back slightly and Bard wondered if he had accidentally hurt him. “Sorry. Please tell me if I hurt you.”

Thranduil hummed, a shallow, breathy sound. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean to.”

“You promise you’ll tell me if anything hurts when I hold you?”

“I promise.”

“You know I’d never do it on purpose. I want you to feel safe with me.”

“I know. You do make me feel safe.”

Bard smiled and pressed a tender kiss into Thranduil’s hair. He felt Thranduil melt in his arms, a small noise of contentment echoing from his chest. But in that moment, a flood of unwanted emotions hit Bard like a brick wall. How can he possibly make Thranduil feel safe? He didn’t keep him safe. He didn’t manage to stop any of this from happening. He stood there like a fucking asshole. He was there, he should’ve done something. He had the opportunity, but instead of taking the risk, he listened to the cops and now Thranduil was in even more pain. Thranduil probably wouldn’t even be in this situation if Bard had the balls to act differently. Thinking on it further, Thranduil’s ex never would’ve done any of this if Thranduil hadn’t been out with Bard in the first place. It was all Bard’s fault. The guilt was eating him alive. And despite having Thranduil secure in his arms, he felt less grounded than he ever had in his life.

Before Bard could stop it, a groan of frustration rumbled up from his deep within his chest. Thranduil pulled his head back, gazing into Bard’s eyes with a furrowed brow.

“What’s wrong?” Thranduil asked, titling his head.

“I wish I could’ve prevented this.” Bard said, letting out a resigned sigh. He wasn’t going to admit that he believed Thranduil’s situation was entirely his fault. This wasn’t about Bard. How Bard felt did not matter. It would be inconsiderate of him to bring up his own petty feelings.

Thranduil wrinkled his nose and shook his head, leaning back into Bard’s shoulder. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry. Let’s go to the kitchen.” Bard said, extracting himself from Thranduil’s grip.

Together, they made their way into the kitchen. Thranduil propped himself up against the counter, leaning forward on his elbows as Bard fetched the roll of paper towel. Being the perceptive person that he was, Bard remembered exactly where the paper towel was from the last time he was in Thranduil’s house the night they had dinner together.

“Under the sink.” Thranduil said, sensing that Bard was now looking for cleaning products.

“Thanks.” Bard crouched down, opening the cabinet door and fishing various cleaning products out from under the sink, unsure of which ones he would need.

“You know, technically, you are supposed to use bleach to clean up blood.” Thranduil said.

“Really? Do you have bleach?”

“Yeah, in the laundry room in the basement. I can get it.” Thranduil pushed himself up off the counter and walked out of the kitchen before Bard could stop him.

Bard sighed, setting the roll of paper towel as well as the cleaning products onto the counter so he could examine them. He didn’t know about the proper methods for cleaning up blood. Why did Thranduil know this? Was it common knowledge? Thranduil couldn’t have bled enough for the cleanup to involve bleach.

It was taking longer than Bard expected for Thranduil to find the bleach in the basement, so Bard took it upon himself to head to the living room and start cleaning up. It would be easier this way. He wouldn’t have to convince Thranduil to let him do it; he could just get it done before Thranduil would have a chance to object.

He could already see the blood on the floor as he rounded the corner upon entering the living room. But, Bard was right; it really wasn’t all that much. A few drops, a few smears, nothing to pull out the bleach over. The couch was pushed out of place, the rug under the coffee table was bunched up and the coffee table itself was out of position. Bard pushed it out of his way, kneeling down as he took in a deep breath. God, this blood – Thranduil’s blood – was only here because of him. If he would’ve acted faster, done something more, then maybe there would be no blood to clean up at all. It made Bard sick to know that someone could actually have to gall to hurt Thranduil in such a cruel way. It was utterly disgusting. Bard hoped that that son of a bitch would get life in prison with no chance of parole. He deserved to rot behind bars for the rest of his pathetic life.

Bard’s hands worked deftly, spraying cleaner onto the blood stains and wiping it up with paper towel. From around the corner, he heard Thranduil’s footsteps.

“Bard!” Thranduil gasped. “What are you doing?”

Bard turned his head to see Thranduil standing in the doorway, staring at Bard with a frenzied look in his eyes. In his hands was the jug of bleach.

“I’m cleaning.” Bard said, looking away from Thranduil to focus on his task. He sprayed the cleaner again, wiped it up and sat the used paper towel in the small pile that had formed.

“I was going to do it!”

“It’s practically done, doll. No worries.”

“So embarrassing.” Thranduil groaned, walking over to where Bard was kneeling on the floor with cautious steps. He set the jug of bleach down beside Bard, and then groaned again before hurrying off. Bard didn’t know where he went, but maybe it was better that he wasn’t in the room while Bard did this.

Bard had cleaned the floor completely but he figured he would take the extra step of cleaning it with the bleach. He didn’t imagine it was proper to just pour the bleach directly onto the hardwood floor, but before he had a chance to move, Thranduil appeared around the corner.

“Okay, so I got this empty spray bottle here and filled it most of the way with water. So just a little bit of bleach will mix with it. Otherwise the floor will be ruined.”

“That’s what I thought.” Bard hummed.

“And here’s a garbage bag. I’ll throw this out.” Thranduil scooped up the used paper towels, tossing them into the garbage bag. He made a face when he took in the sight of his blood stained upon the paper towels. He disposed of them hurriedly, throwing the bag off to the side when he was done.

As Thranduil took a seat on the couch, Bard mixed a bit of the bleach into the spray bottle, shaking it very gently. He could feel Thranduil watching him, but he didn’t falter. He sprayed the solution onto the floor, rubbing it in until the paper towel had soaked it up. He did this a few times, chucking the soiled paper towels into the garbage bag, and repeated the process until he deemed the task complete.

Thranduil made a satisfied sound, but didn’t speak. He got up from the couch and headed back into the kitchen. When he returned he had another spray bottle.

“This is just water. I don’t want the bleach to fuck up my floors.”

Bard reached out for the bottle and Thranduil passed it to him before collecting the jug of bleach and the other cleaning products and heading out of the room yet again. After the water had been sprayed onto the floor and wiped up, Bard threw out the paper towels and stood up. He grabbed the garbage bag and made his way to the kitchen to find Thranduil.

When he entered the kitchen, Thranduil was leaning against the counter with his head in his hands.

“Thran, is everything alright?” Bard asked, dropping the bag near the refrigerator and coming up alongside Thranduil.

“I’m sorry you had to do that.” Thranduil mumbled into his hands, the sound muffled and low.

“Don’t be sorry, darling. I really don’t mind. I’m here to help.” Bard reassured him, leaning upon the counter. He pressed the side of his body against Thranduil’s, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Thranduil’s neck.

Thranduil made a snorting sound before he uncovered his face and pulled away from Bard. “I may or may not be ticklish.” He said after Bard shot him an incredulous glance.

“I’ll file away that information for later.” Bard smirked.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Thranduil swatted at Bard’s arm and leaned into him again, the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips.

“So…tea?”

“Yes. Tea. What kind would you like?”

“What do you have?”

“Oh, you know. A bit of everything. Black, white, green, rooibos, oolong, maté, herbal – ”

“Oh, god. A bit of everything is right!” Bard grinned. He had always pegged Thranduil as a tea lover.

“I admit, I am a bit of a tea snob.”

“How about something with caffeine?” Bard asked. He really needed the extra boost the caffeine would give him. He was beyond exhausted, though he would never show it.

“Okay. I’ll make my favourite yerba maté.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“It is. It tastes like gingerbread. Do you want it as a latte or just plain? It’s good with milk. I’ve got soy, almond or just regular milk from the cow.”

“The cow is good for me.”

“I figured.” Thranduil said, opening the fridge door and pulling out two different cartons of milk before he set them onto the counter in front of Bard.

“What do you put in yours?”

“Soy. I like to froth it up in the latte machine.”

“Ooh. Do you want me to do anything?”

“Just sit there and look pretty.” Thranduil said, waving a hand. “I’ve got this.” He retrieved a bag, of what was most likely the tea, from the cupboard. Bard noticed that there were dozens of similar bags lined up neatly on the shelves in that cupboard. A tea snob, indeed!

Then, Thranduil pulled out some sort of steeping container and a spoon. Bard watched closely as Thranduil opened the pouch of tea and put a few scoops into the steeper. He quickly added water to the kettle and turned it on.

“Look at you with your loose leaf tea. I was expecting just regular old tea bags.” Bard commented as Thranduil poured the soy milk into the latte machine. Thranduil smirked, his gaze stopping on Bard once he had finished pouring the milk.

“No tea bags for me. They don’t taste as good.”

Once the water boiled, Thranduil poured it into the steeper and fetched two mugs, which he placed on the counter in front of him. They waited a few minutes for the tea to steep. When the water had transformed into a golden amber colour, Thranduil added an equal amount of the tea into each mug and finally pressed a button on the latte machine to froth his milk.

Bard took the mug when Thranduil slid it over to him and grabbed the carton of milk so he could add some to his tea. The smell was delicious and he’d bet it would taste just as good.

“I have sugar, stevia or agave if you want something to sweeten it.” Thranduil informed, opening the pantry door and looking over his shoulder at Bard.

“What’s agave?” Bard asked, shrugging. He was in way over his head, but at least he wasn’t in denial about it. Bard didn’t know about all this fancy tea stuff. He didn’t have the time or money to know these things.

“It’s some sort of nectar. Kinda like honey, but it comes from a plant. It tastes good.”

“Is that what you’re gonna have?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll try it too then.”

“Okay.” Thranduil nodded. He dug around in the pantry and emerged with a squeeze bottle of the strange honey-like substance.

He put a few drops into his tea and then handed it to Bard. While Bard was stirring the agave in his tea, Thranduil added the frothy milk to his drink and finally took a seat on the stool beside Bard. Bard couldn’t help but chuckle when he got a look at how fancy and expensive-looking Thranduil’s tea appeared. It looked like something you’d get at Starbucks or some other high-end coffee shop.

Bard took a small sip of his drink and was surprised to find that it was actually rather delicious. Beside him, Thranduil licked at the frothy milk that was almost overflowing in his mug.

“This is really good.” Bard said, taking another sip.

“You like it?”

“Yeah. Delicious.”

“Mine’s even better. Still too hot though.” Thranduil said. Bard glanced over at him as he swiped at the frothiness with his finger.

Bard gulped. Thranduil put his finger in his mouth, licking off the milk. He turned his head in Bard’s direction, his eyes still cast downward. Then he slowly opened his eyes, gazing into Bard’s. Thranduil must have been able to feel the intensity of Bard’s stare.

A smile tugged at Bard’s lips, drawing an equally seductive smirk from Thranduil. God, did Thranduil have any idea what he was doing to Bard or was this just his personality? How could he tease Bard after all that had happened to him?

Thranduil pulled his finger from his mouth with a pop. Bard sighed and shook his head, smile still plastered on his face.

“What?” Thranduil asked, taking a sip from his mug now that there wasn’t so much frothy milk in the way.

“Oh, nothing.” Bard knew he shouldn’t be having these sorts of thoughts about Thranduil. So he tried his best to push the image of Thranduil with his finger in his mouth out of his mind.

All of a sudden, Thranduil stood from the stool, clutching his mug. Bard gave him a worried look. He hoped he hadn’t offended Thranduil with whatever that little exchange was.

“Fucking stool is uncomfortable.” Thranduil complained.

“We can sit on the couch.” Bard proposed.

“Ugh. Not that disgusting bleach infused room. Let’s go to the sitting room.”

“Okay, doll. Lead the way.”

 “I should get my blanket. I might want to lie down.”

“Where’d you leave it?”

“At the door, I think.”

They passed by the foyer on their way to the sitting room so Thranduil could grab his blanket as Bard carried both of their mugs. Immediately, Thranduil plopped himself down onto the couch, stretching his legs out and spreading the blanket out over top of himself. Bard passed Thranduil his mug and put his own on the coffee table before taking a seat on a leather armchair that was positioned beside the end of the couch.

“What time is it?” Thranduil asked, taking languid sips of his drink. “Haldir should soon be here with Legolas.”  

Bard pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “It’s ten-fifteen. You said they’d be here at eleven?”

“Yeah. Do you mind if I fall asleep for a bit?” Thranduil gulped down more of his tea before setting it on the end table behind his head.

“No, of course I don’t mind. Sleep. Do you want me to wake you before eleven?”

“Yeah, please.” Thranduil sighed. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and turned on his side to face the back of the couch, curling his legs up close to his chest. It certainly didn’t look like a very comfortable position to fall asleep in.

Bard finished off his tea and did his best to ignore the grumbling of his stomach. He and Thranduil had not eaten breakfast yet and Bard wondered if it was appropriate to rummage around in Thranduil’s kitchen for something to eat. Bard’s manners kept him seated in the armchair though. If he was going to eat anything, he would be sure to ask Thranduil first if it was okay. And since he didn’t want to wake Thranduil up, he knew he would have to remain hungry for a while longer.

Pulling out his phone, Bard sent a quick text message to Sigrid, letting her know where he went. He asked her to be in charge at home and make sure everyone had something to eat and to get Bain to finish his homework when he got home from his friend’s house. Bard wasn’t sure exactly what time he would be home from Thranduil’s, so he told Sigrid he would be home before dinner time.

Following his text conversation with Sigrid, Bard decided to play some games on his phone and before he knew it, it was ten-forty-five. Maybe Haldir would show up early. Bard stood up, took a few steps in front of the couch and crouched down so he could wake up Thranduil.

“Hey.” Bard said, inching his face closer to Thranduil’s shoulder. “Wake up, Thran.”

Thranduil hummed and his grasp on the blanket grew tighter. Bard had never really noticed before, but now that Thranduil was still, Bard could see just how nice Thranduil’s hands were. It was a strange observation to make, but it was the truth. Bard found Thranduil’s hands attractive. He chuckled at his discovery and then cupped his hand over Thranduil’s, entwining their fingers.

Still Thranduil did not budge. “C’mon, doll. They’ll be here soon.” Bard pressed a gentle kiss to Thranduil’s knuckles.

“Okay.” Thranduil said, his voice low and raspy. “I’m awake.”

“Okay, good.”

“This is going to be fucking horrible.” Thranduil droned, shifting his position on the couch so he was sitting up and facing Bard. But before Bard could reassure Thranduil that everything would be alright, the doorbell rang and Thranduil’s eyes went wide. “Too late to escape now.”

“It will be fine. You want me to come to the door with you?” Bard proposed, still squeezing Thranduil’s hand.

Thranduil nodded, slowly standing from the couch.

On the way to the door, Thranduil positioned himself directly behind Bard. It was almost as if he was using Bard as a shield, his own personal, human shield. Bard didn’t mind; he’d open the door for Thranduil’s friend and son if that was what needed to be done to make Thranduil feel more at ease.

Thranduil had his blanket wrapped around his head, hanging down over his back and shoulders. If the situation were different Bard would probably be smothering a snort right now; Thranduil looked like an old babushka with the blanket around his head like a scarf. But now was not the time to chuckle about such things.

From the other side of the door Bard could hear the telltale sound of a child; such innocent laughter. That would likely change within the next few minutes. Bard could imagine how difficult this must be for Thranduil to have to see his son after all that had happened to him. Physically it was obvious that Thranduil was hurt, and Bard knew if it were him, he would feel just as apprehensive about coming face to face with his children. Thranduil’s son had already lost his mother, so Bard could only guess that the boy must be a little overprotective of his father.

Behind Bard, Thranduil sighed, a heavy sound of resignation. He was preparing himself for something he did not want to face. Bard turned to Thranduil, pulling him into an embrace as a few rhythmic knocks sounded on the door – most likely Thranduil’s son. Bard rubbed Thranduil’s arm softly and nuzzled his chin onto Thranduil’s shoulder.

“You want me to get it?” He whispered.

“Doesn’t really matter, they are going to see me no matter what. Haldir is going to freak out.”

Bard let go of Thranduil and turned towards the door. He pulled the door open with hesitant movements, prepared for whatever reaction was awaiting him on the other side.

“About time--” Were the words that greeted Bard and an eye roll quickly morphed into a much more serious look of concern.

The man that Bard guessed must be Haldir stood before him with a puzzled expression on his face, his mouth still half open as if he were about to speak but the words had all but escaped him once he took in the sight of Bard.

Clinging to Haldir was the cutest little boy Bard had ever seen. He looked like a clone of Thranduil, only the smaller version. He was quiet, but his big blue eyes were on Bard and they held a thousand questions. Of course the child was frightened; there was a stranger in his house, answering the door when he’d been expecting to see his father.

Without prolonging the awkwardness any longer, Bard reached out his arm to shake Haldir’s hand. Even in this tense situation, Bard still had manners. “I’m Bard. Nice to meet you.”

Haldir took Bard’s hand loosely before shaking it, skepticism clouding his eyes. “Haldir.” He finally replied before he let go of Bard’s hand. “Where is Thranduil?”

Bard had thought Thranduil was right behind him, but he must have slunk back out of sight.

“Yeah, where is Ada?” The little boy asked, voice elevated with worry.

“He’s here.” Bard replied, turning around to see where Thranduil had gone.

“I’m here.” Thranduil called out from around the corner.

“What’s going on?” Haldir griped, stepping into the house behind Legolas who had ran in at the sound of Thranduil’s voice.

Legolas left his shoes on and ran past Bard until he was out of sight. But the sound of him stopping dead in his tracks, and a small squeak drew Bard’s attention. Muffled whispers of reassurance from Thranduil echoed throughout the silence of the house.

Haldir kicked off his shoes and tossed his coat on to the floor while Bard stood there motionless. Their eyes locked for a moment and Bard wished he had the power to communicate with only a look. He wished he could warn Haldir of Thranduil’s fragile state. But all he could do was shuffle out of the way to let Haldir by.

“What on earth is going on? Is no one going to tell me?!” Haldir exclaimed, making his way around the corner to where Thranduil and Legolas were.

Bard followed but kept his distance. It wasn’t his place to say anything and right now he felt like an intruder. A part of him just wished he could get out of this awkward situation but the other part wanted to make this as easy for Thranduil as possible.

Haldir stopped abruptly, a loud gasp filling the air and Bard very nearly crashed into him.

“Oh my god, oh my god! Holy—” Haldir cried in disbelief. Both of Haldir’s hands shot up and he clasped them over his mouth to stop the words from pouring out.

The sight before them was heart wrenching; Thranduil was crouched down embracing little Legolas, holding on to his son as if his life depended on it. Legolas had his face buried in Thranduil’s neck, making sobbing noises – either that, or he was laughing. But there was no reason he would be laughing. That poor child, he must be so confused right now. And Thranduil…well, it was obvious that he was more than overwhelmed. Having to not only deal with his son’s reaction, but also Haldir’s – it was definitely weighing on him.

Haldir hadn’t moved a muscle, still standing there like a deer in the headlights. His hands had not moved from his mouth, but the expression of horror and confusion was evident in his eyes.

Bard stood off to the side, half leaning against the wall, hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt. Should he leave, should he stay? Was he only in the way?

“Ada?” Legolas pulled his face out of Thranduil’s hair, his eyes staring sadly at Thranduil’s face. “What happened?” He grazed his small fingers gently over his father’s cheek and flinched when Thranduil did.

Their eyes both held the same hesitation, a mirror image of each other’s fear and worry. Thranduil did not answer Legolas, he only closed his eyes and leaned into his son’s touch.

“Yeah. What happened, Thran?! Oh my god!” Haldir blurt out from behind his hands.

“It was…him…wasn’t it?” Legolas asked, pulling away from Thranduil, looking around frantically in all directions. His eyes fell on Bard for a moment before Thranduil grasped his shoulders, drawing his attention again.

“He’s not here, leaf. He’s gone.” Thranduil whispered, but it was still loud enough that Bard could easily make out the words. What had this disgusting man done to Thranduil’s son? Did Legolas know the extent of his violence? Bard shuddered at the thought.

“Ada, I wanna go up.” Legolas pointed to the ceiling.

“Okay. Come.” Thranduil stood up and reached for Legolas’s hand, holding it tightly.

He exchanged a look of understanding with Haldir, and then glanced at Bard.

“I’ll be back. Is that okay?” Thranduil said, turning what should be a statement into a question, as if he needed permission to go about freely in his own home.

“Yes. Go, go.” Haldir said as Bard nodded.

Thranduil feigned a smile and walked silently towards the stairs with his son in tow.

Once Thranduil had gone upstairs with Legolas, Haldir’s stance changed and he pinned Bard to the wall with his gaze. God, this man was far more intimidating than Bard had expected. But Bard stood there, unmoving. Haldir let out a huff and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“So.” He said at last. “Galion did this, didn’t he? I should have known!” Haldir’s expression was beyond exasperated.

Galion? Bard didn’t know a Galion, but he was guessing that he must be Thranduil’s ex. “I don’t know that assholes name, but I’m guessing you’re right.”

“Thranduil’s piece of shit boyfriend.” Haldir snorted. “Disgusting, vile creature. What a waste of life.”

“I agree. A waste of life, indeed.” Bard replied, not sure what to say to Haldir, who was basically just venting aloud now, not particularly even speaking to Bard.

“I fucking saw this coming, you know. God, I should’ve done something sooner, said something. Ugh. So what, did he just show up here? You were on a date with Thran, right? Where did Galion come from? He was supposed to be away!” Haldir sighed loudly, his hands on his hips as he paced back and forth in front of Bard. He had a ferocity about him that reminded Bard of a panther plotting its next move. “I will kill him for hurting Thran!”

“Well, count me in.” Bard said.

“We will go to prison but fuck, it will be worth it. So…I know this is awkward because we don’t know each other at all, but I need to know exactly what he did to Thran. So come,” Haldir gestured with his hands, “let’s go to the kitchen; I need some water or I may very well pass out.”

Bard nodded and followed Haldir into the kitchen. After Haldir pulled a water bottle from the fridge and chugged half of it, he turned his gaze to Bard.

“Okay. So I’m guessing Thran told you what happened then, since you are here right now.”

“I saw most of it happen.” Bard said without preamble. No point beating around the bush.

“You saw it?! How? It’s clear that Galion was physically violent but what exactly did he do?”

“Well I showed up here when they were…fighting.”

“Oh my poor Thranduil!”

“I called the cops and saw them drag that fucker out in handcuffs, then they questioned me and Thranduil. The EMTs tended to Thran’s wounds and then I took him to the hospital. He didn’t want to go in an ambulance.”

“Bless your soul, Bard. You probably saved my best friend’s life. Who knows what that scum could’ve done!”

“It gets worse though.”

“Worse? Oh, god no. Worse how?” Haldir’s eyes went wide and a look of realization slowly became evident on his face.

“I think you know. I don’t have to say it, do I?”

“Fucking Christ! Galion raped Thranduil, didn’t he?” Haldir clutched his heart, his features contorted into pure disgust.

Bard didn’t need to say anything. All he did was nod. He had no words left.

“Call the cops again, because you’re about to witness a homicide! Or just a mental breakdown.” Haldir began pacing around the island counter, clenching his fists at his side. “I swear to all that is holy, and I’m not even religious…I will kill him! I’ll shred him to pieces!”

“I’m sorry…” Bard began, feeling it was the only logical thing to say right now. He didn’t know how to hold a conversation with someone who was on the verge of a panic attack.

“God! Why are you sorry?! You saved Thran’s life. That fucker would’ve killed him.”

“Please, calm down. Just…breathe.”

Haldir took in a labored breath, holding both hands over his chest. “I’ll try. I need to talk to him.”

“You should do that, then. I can wait here.”

“Oh, oh, oh. I’m going to send you on a mission. Do you mind? I think we all need a bit of food right now and poor Thran has probably not eaten anything today, so would you be so kind as to go out and get us some lunch? I’ll give you the money and I’ll write down exactly what to order – oh, I need paper and a pen…where does Thran keep these things? Ugh.” Haldir scrambled around the room, eyes darting about, head whipping back and forth as he searched for a pen and paper. Finally he found what he was looking for beside the fridge and slammed the paper down onto the island counter. “Okay. Let me make a list. Thran would want…his favourite of course, the six cheese tortellini, and I’ll have the chicken alfredo, and you can get, well you get whatever you want. Oh, and let me write down the address for this place. It’s not too far. Do you have a GPS? Oh, hell, you don’t need one. It’s practically around the corner. Oh and get some extra parmesan cheese, in a little container, just ask them, they’ll do it.” Haldir scribbled on the piece of paper, a frenzied look in his eyes. “Here.” He handed the paper to Bard and then pulled out his wallet to take out some money. “Sorry if I’m going a little mad here. I tend to ramble when I’m stressed.”

“No worries. We all deal in our own way. I can see how much you care about Thran. So don’t worry. I’ll get us lunch and –”

“Oh!” Haldir exclaimed, interrupting Bard. “We need to get something for the leaf as well. Just get another alfredo for him. Do you need to write it down?”

“I’ll be good. Breathe.”

“Sorry. Here, take this money before I crush it in my hand!” Haldir passed the money to Bard.

Bard’s eyebrows shot up when he saw that Haldir had given him seventy-five dollars. “I won’t need all this.”

“Oh p’shaw!” Haldir waved dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Just bring me the change if there’s any.”

“Okay. Um…does Legolas like ice cream? I can pick something up for him.” Bard suggested. He figured the poor child could use a little something sweet right now. Ice cream had always been a comfort food for his children, so he figured Legolas would enjoy it as well.

“He loves ice cream. Chocolate. With peanut butter. That’s his all-time favourite. Thran likes it too.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can find.”

“There’s a Baskin Robbins in the strip mall where the Italian restaurant is, just so you know. And I think they have a chocolate peanut butter. Otherwise, there’s always the grocery store.”

“Thanks. I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay. God, it’s like you’ve been sent straight from heaven! Thank you.”

“Anything to help.” Bard smiled.

Then he left the house with Haldir’s list stuffed into his pocket, hoping all would go well while he was out getting lunch.

***

After Legolas had openly expressed that he wanted to play in his room by himself, Thranduil made his way to his bedroom. He needed to lie down somewhere where he could feel secure, someplace that would help him feel like himself again. Talking to Legolas about Galion was not easy, but Thranduil managed to calm his son down as best he could. Of course Legolas was frightened by what happened so Thranduil only told him the barest of details, just giving him a vague idea of what happened. He would never want to scare his son even more by telling him the full truth. He kept it simple and told him that Galion was angry and attacked him. He didn’t say more than that. The way Thranduil looked said it all.

Thranduil sat on the bed contemplating whether or not he should go downstairs to get Haldir. He knew his best friend must be going crazy right now. And Thranduil had left him alone with Bard. Thranduil felt bad that Bard was alone with Haldir, most likely having to deal with a ton of questions. Poor Bard probably wanted none of this. That thought made Thranduil very uncomfortable. Yet, Bard was still here; he hadn’t run away yet.

Pulling the blanket around his head, Thranduil leaned back into the mountain of pillows on his bed. It was nice to sink into the comfort of the pillows. Still, it did not take away the pain that had burrowed into his very being. He stayed still on the bed, not wanting to have to go downstairs, not wanting to have to explain this fucking story yet again. Telling Legolas was fairly easy, but telling Haldir would be much more difficult; he would expect all the details. And Thranduil knew Haldir’s reactions would be extreme and probably cause Thranduil to breakdown once again. The whole morning he had been repressing his feelings, pretending that everything was fine, acting as he would on any normal day. But today was no normal day. He didn’t know why he tried to entice Bard by sucking the frothy milk off his finger, or batting his eyelashes the way he did. He was aware that he was using some twisted coping mechanism. He was aware that he was in denial, that he was trying to push his feelings aside and put on a mask to protect himself. Pretending like this never happened wasn’t so hard, so long as he wasn’t reminded of anything that had to do with Galion.

What was Bard telling Haldir right now? Thranduil wasn’t sure if he wanted Bard to tell Haldir the whole story, or if it would be better for him not to say anything at all. He came to the conclusion that he would rather have Bard tell Haldir than have to tell Haldir himself. The less Thranduil would have to say the better. As he was sitting there pondering, a knock on the door sent a shock through his body, jolting him upright on the bed.

“Thran, are you in here?”

Thranduil sighed at the sound of Haldir’s voice. He was reluctant to respond, but knew Haldir would come in whether Thranduil invited him in or not.

“Yeah.” Thranduil’s voice came out weak, broken. He hated the sound as soon as it left his lips.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”  Almost the second Thranduil had given his affirmation the door began to open slowly, revealing first Haldir’s face, then his arm and then his entire body. He slunk around the door, taking measured steps towards Thranduil, his brows knit together.

Haldir had that sympathetic look on his face that Thranduil so hated. So to avoid Haldir’s expression, Thranduil glanced toward the window and fixed his eyes upon the overcast sky. Dull grey; much like his mood.

The side of the bed sunk lower, telling Thranduil that Haldir had taken a seat beside him. But he did not look over to meet Haldir’s eyes. As much as Thranduil didn’t want to think about it, he could feel the way Haldir was judging him, scrutinizing the way he looked.

After a few seconds of silence, Haldir exhaled loudly and cleared his throat. “My God, Thran, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Okay? Seriously? Thranduil snorted, still not meeting Haldir’s eyes. He could feel the concern in Haldir’s voice, the worry, and it made Thranduil sick. “Really? Do I fucking look okay to you?”

Quickly, Thranduil whipped his head around in Haldir’s direction, unaffected by the apologetic look on Haldir’s face.

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Haldir held both hands up. “I know you’re not okay. But I’m--”

“What did Bard tell you?” Thranduil cut Haldir off. He didn’t need Haldir’s pity, or judgment or whatever the hell he felt.

 “It doesn’t matter. He didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already guess. What happened, Thran?”

“Galion, obviously.”

“Well, I know that. What, was he stalking you? I thought he was away on that bullshit business trip or whatever. Did he jump you? Did he follow you home? How’d he get in? I know you’d never let him in, especially after changing the locks…” Haldir stood up, clearly unable to sit still now that he had begun talking. He walked back and forth beside the bed, huffing and shaking his head.

“God, slow down. I’ll tell you. So apparently he was watching me.” Thranduil began, looking at Haldir, who paced around with his hands on his hips. “He must have followed me to the restaurant where I was meeting Bard. Then he showed up out of nowhere, after Bard and I were already at the table… and the fucker starts running his mouth so of course I don’t want him to cause a scene, so I take him outside to the parking lot, but he just keeps going on and on--”

“He didn’t stop making a scene? That’s so typical! God, I fucking want to cut him. So what, did he drag you home?”

“Pretty much. It’s all kind of blurry. I think he threatened Legolas, so what was I going to do?”

“Scum! You know, that’s carjacking.” Haldir nodded his head, pursing his lips. “And kidnapping. You should charge him for that, too.” All of a sudden, both of Haldir’s hands shot up in the air. “Jesus, Mother Mary and Joseph! He’s a fucking psychopath, Thran. Thank the heavens you are alive! Oh my god, you don’t even know how relieved I am.” Haldir finally paused from his incessant pacing, taking a huge breath as his arms ceased their flailing motions. “Oh my god! I just- I can’t even!” Haldir put a hand to his heart as the back of his other hand went up to his forehead.

“Haldir, please. Calm down. You are hyperventilating…”

“Fucking Christ, Thran! I have reason to be hyperventilating! I want to kill Galion and drag his dead body through the streets! Like Mussolini.”

“…Did that actually happen?”

“It’s irrelevant! Anyway, I’ve decided. I’m going to stay here with you for a few days. There’s no way I’m letting you stay here by yourself. What kind of friend would that make me? I’ll tell you; a really shitty friend. And that’s not who I am, no. I’m going to stay here with you and help out with Legolas and do whatever you need me to do.”

“Haldir, I don’t--”

“Shh! No, just stop! Don’t say anything. Shush.” Haldir put a finger up to his lips and then shook it in Thranduil’s direction.

“You don’t have to stay here, Hal. C’mon.”

“Shut up, shut up. Just shut your mouth! I am going to stay here because I am your best friend and I will continue to be your best friend until the day we die and get buried next to each other in the dirt. So just shut up and listen. I’m staying here because you need me to. I know you will never admit it, so I’m going to take it upon myself to do this. I want to help you, so don’t try to change my mind about this. When Haldir makes up his mind, there’s no changing it. You know this better than anyone.”

“Yes, unfortunately, I do.”

“So, I’m staying and Bard has gone to get us some lunch. Hint, it’s your favourite six cheese tortellini from that Italian restaurant you love so much. I made sure to request the extra parmesan cheese on the side. I know you and cheese. It’s like a drug for you. It’s got magical properties or something. You’ll feel better after you get some of that moldy cow milk in you.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“It may be disgusting but it’s the truth. Now, how about we go downstairs and wait for that gorgeous man to return with our lunch, hmm?”

“Oh, lord.” Thranduil groaned, not moving from the bed. Was Haldir really going to start talking about Bard now? Wasn’t it enough to have to go on about wanting to kill Galion?

“What? He is damn fine. And I approve.”

“Approve what?”

“That you two are dating. You are dating, right?”

“You’ve been waiting all day to ask me this haven’t you?”

“No….well, maybe.”

“I don’t even think I can think about dating right now. Let’s save this discussion for later.”

“Yes, yes. Sorry! I just get excited.”

“You like him?” Thranduil asked, finally shuffling off the bed. He was truly curious about Haldir’s thoughts on Bard and it was a much safer topic than Galion.

“He’s very nice. But then again I’ve talked to him for all of ten minutes and it wasn’t exactly the most…normal conversation. But he seems very sweet, and he cares about you a lot, that much is obvious. Don’t push yourself though! You need to take time for yourself.”

“I know. I still can’t believe that he hasn’t run for the hills. He could’ve made his escape any time now and he still hasn’t.”

“He doesn’t seem like the type that would do that. I get a good vibe from him. But oh, I’m jumping ahead! We shouldn’t worry about any of this yet.”

With that, Haldir wrapped his arms around Thranduil, giving him a big comforting hug.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Thran. You didn’t deserve it.”

“You know what’s fucked up?” Thranduil said when Haldir pulled out of their hug.

“What?”

“I sort of feel like I did deserve it. And I even thought that you’d give me the whole ‘I told you so’ speech.”

“Like hell I’d ever say anything so horrible. How could you think you deserve to be treated like such shit? God, Thran!”

“I don’t know. I just…I should have known. He always treated me horribly and I should have gotten out of it sooner. So when I think about it like that, I guess I deserved it. It only kept getting worse and I should’ve seen it coming.”

“You tried to get out. He was controlling you, he was manipulative. He took advantage of your kindness.”

“I know. But I still feel like I should have done something to get rid of him sooner. Especially after what he did that night in my studio. God, it makes me sick.”

“You still never told me about that.”

“Let’s just say he got physically violent, destroyed one of my paintings, poured my fucking wedding wine in my hair and…forced himself on me. Not as bad as what he just did, but it was obvious then that shit was only going to escalate.”

Haldir’s face was frozen in a look of horror, but finally his expression sobered and let out a sharp exhale before speaking. “Hey, you did what you could, okay? You changed the locks, you made up your mind to end things with him. Don’t blame yourself for this. God, I want to kill that bastard! I want to chain him up in the town square and let the peasants spit on him and stab him with their pitchforks!”

“Too bad we don’t live in eighteenth century England.”

“We can always pretend.”

“Pretending is all I can do right now to survive.”

“Ah, but you did survive. He won’t break you. Don’t let him have that power.”

“I feel broken though. Shattered into a million pieces.”

“Thran, you are not broken. Don’t let yourself believe that you are. And maybe you feel that way now, but in time you will feel whole again. Trust me.”

“You know what he did?”

Haldir cringed. “I know.”

“No, not _that._ The cameras…”

“Cameras?! Lord God! Don’t tell me--”

“Yeah. He set up these home surveillance cameras and has been watching me while he was away. God knows what he saw.”

“Oh my god, Thran. That is twisted! Like I said, he’s a complete lunatic and needs to be taken to the nearest asylum. What did they call them back in the day, house of imbeciles? Yeah, that’s where he needs to go.”

“Prison might be more reasonable.” Thranduil concluded.

“And then prison. So he can be tortured by the big, hairy murderers!”

“Hopefully.”

“That would be a fine slice of justice pie.”

Thranduil sighed and scrunched up his face. He couldn’t bear to be talking about Galion and he hoped Haldir would be able to sense his discomfort and change the topic to something a bit more pleasant, something that would keep Thranduil in a more stable state of mind.

Thranduil remained a cold, lifeless statue on the outside, but on the inside he was screaming. His pain was returning; his back stung and his head throbbed, and he was sore in the most awkward of places.

_No, no, no. Don’t think about_ that _. Don’t focus on how much it hurts. Think about something else, anything else. The fucking stitches, just focus on the stitches. Fuck, why did they have to shave my hair? My precious hair! Couldn’t they have just stitched into my hair? The more I think about the gash in my head, the more it hurts….but not as much as – no, don’t think about it. Stop._

“Thran? You’re spacing out.” Haldir gave him an inquisitive look, tilting his head as his eyes lingered upon Thranduil’s face. “What do you need? Just tell me, Thran. I’m here for you. What do you need that will make you feel better?”

“How about sleeping pills and some vodka?” Thranduil said, trying to sound flippant, when in reality he was dead serious. He would kill for some vodka right about now.

“God! No, no, no, Thran! Not sleeping pills. I will not let you have sleeping pills! But vodka…” Haldir pursed his lips, looking up to the ceiling as though he were debating with himself. “Well, vodka we can do! I can get you a shot of vodka. What kinds do you have? Grey Goose…Smirnoff…” He trailed off, eyes still gazing upward.

Thranduil really did not care about the brand of vodka, only that he had the vodka right this second.

“Doesn’t matter. Anything.”

“Hell! Maybe I should have a shot, too. Why not?”

“Go for it.” Thranduil said, his voice lacking enthusiasm.

“Alrighty. Let’s go downstairs then.”

“I need a fucking painkiller, too.” Thranduil stated as they walked out into the hall and made for the stairs.

“Hell no. I will not be responsible for your death, Thran. Painkillers or vodka…you choose. You can only have one. Not both.”

“Fine. Vodka. I haven’t had vodka in ages.”

“Okay. Be back in a tick!” Haldir smiled like a giddy child and skipped down the hallway that led to the basement door.

Thranduil went into the sitting room and took a seat on the couch, flinching as he tried to find a position that wouldn’t bring him any pain. He tucked both legs under himself and leaned on the arm of the couch for support. Haldir must have sprinted to the cellar because in no time he was bolting around the corner with a bottle of Grey Goose in hand. He sat the bottle on the coffee table and then gasped, speed-walking in the direction of the kitchen. When he reappeared, he was holding two glasses.

“Do you need ice? I can get ice.” Haldir said. “Or some coke or juice to mix with the vodka?”

“Straight is fine.” Thranduil replied.

“Nothing is ever straight with me.” Haldir set the glasses on the coffee table and proceeded to pour a small amount of the vodka into each glass.

“More.” Thranduil insisted. If he was going to have alcohol, he wanted more than just a shot’s worth.

“Have this first and you can have more when you’re done.” Haldir rolled his eyes and sat beside Thranduil on the couch, curling both legs up to his chest.

Thranduil took the glass and chugged it back in one long gulp. It was strong, but he welcomed the burning sensation at the back of his throat. He hadn’t had vodka in a long time, but already he wanted more. He knew the amount Haldir had poured for him wasn’t enough. Haldir should’ve just listened to him to begin with. “Now I’ll have more.”

“Geez Louise.” Haldir took a small sip of his drink, making a face after he swallowed. “Ick. Nice and strong.” He grabbed the bottle from the coffee table and handed it to Thranduil.

Thranduil filled the glass a third of the way full, ignoring the glare Haldir was giving him. “Don’t say anything, Hal. I can drink however much I want.”

“Just don’t pass out before food gets here.” Haldir finished what he had in his glass and took the bottle from Thranduil so he could pour more for himself. “You know what we should do? We should put the fireplace to use. Yes! Let’s get a fire going. It will be so cozy in here. When was the last time you had the chimney cleaned? We wouldn’t want to blow up the house!”

“Hmm.” Thranduil thought about it for a second but then shrugged, taking another large gulp from his glass.

“Ah, I think we’ll be fine! Do you still keep the logs in the garage?”

“Yeah. They’re there. Are you going to—”

“Yup!” Haldir interrupted, setting his glass down before he sprung from the couch. “Be back in a sec! Don’t get sloshed before I return!”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

Thranduil emptied his glass and reached for the bottle once more. Fuck not getting sloshed. He didn’t care. The only thing stopping him from chugging the vodka straight from the bottle was the fact that Bard was out getting lunch and would probably be back within the next few minutes. Thranduil still had some class regardless of his current state of self-loathing.

Thranduil sighed as he swirled the clear liquid in his glass. His level of annoyance was building quickly. It was as though Haldir was in hyper drive, moving around too quickly for Thranduil to keep up with. And although Thranduil was grateful for Haldir’s nonstop commentary, sometimes he was just too loud and overwhelming. And why the fuck did Haldir care so much about having the fireplace going? To soothe his own worries? All he was doing was rushing around making Thranduil dizzy with anxiety.

As Thranduil was taking a sip of vodka, Haldir appeared around the corner, a pile of fire wood in his arms. He bolted over in front of the fireplace and knelt down, setting the wood on the floor in front of himself. Thranduil watched Haldir with a frown, examining his movements, from the way he tilted his head to the side to the way he threw up his hands in exasperation. Clearly, Haldir had no idea how to light the fire.

“Well fuck me. How do you get this thing going? Do you have a lighter? Do I need to put paper in here?”

Thranduil’s stomach was in knots, feelings of anxiety worming their way back into his chest with every breath he took. Haldir’s frantic, staccato motions were only helping to further fuel his distress.

“Can you just sit the fuck down, Haldir?”

With that, Haldir turned to face Thranduil, a perplexed look on his face. “I’m sorry, Thran. I’m only trying to help.”

“Fuck the fire.”

“I thought it would be nice. I thought it would make you comfortable.”

“No amount of fire will make me comfortable. So just stop fucking moving around like a madman. You’re making me sick.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just wanted a cozy atmosphere.”

“This isn’t about you, Haldir. So please. Just sit.”

“Okay.” Haldir agreed, abandoning the logs and taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “Sorry. I don’t know what the right thing to do is.”

“Just have some vodka.” Thranduil said, grabbing the bottle from the coffee table and thrusting it in Haldir’s direction. “You need to catch up.”

Haldir took the bottle from Thranduil and poured another shot for himself before twisting the cap back onto the bottle and sitting it on the couch between them. “You know how I get when I drink.”

“You’re hilarious with a little alcohol in you.” Thranduil commented, taking another swig from his glass.

“I’m always hilarious.” Haldir waved a hand and took the shot in one big gulp. He made a face and stuck out his tongue, drawing a small laugh from Thranduil.

“That is true.”

“Holy hell, I’m starving! I bet Bard got lost. He’s taking forever.”

“It probably takes like fifteen minutes just to cook the food.”

“Are you hungry? What have you eaten today?”

“I haven’t had anything, but I’m not hungry. I had tea.”

“You and your tea. You should clear out some of it; I bet you have over a hundred different kinds. Some of them have got to be old.”

“I had one the other day and I swear it was rotten. I think it had dairy or soy in it. It tasted foul.”

“Ew. That’s what I’m saying. Those things expire. You’ve had some of them for like five years. You’re like a tea hoarder.”

“Well, I don’t want to throw them out, maybe I’ll want to drink them one day.”

“You’ll poison yourself with fermented tea.”

“Ah, psh! Don’t be such a mother hen. Maybe I’m trying to make Kombucha.”

“I won’t even pretend to know what you’re talking about.”

“Pass me the bottle.” Thranduil said, holding out his hand. “This is empty. I hate when it’s empty.”

“Thran! How much have you had?!” Haldir wailed, furrowing his brow as he looked closely at how much vodka was left in the bottle.

“I’ve had three.”

“Three glasses, yes. That doesn’t equal three shots, though. You’ve probably had the equivalent of like six shots. The alcohol is going to hit you and you won’t be able to stand up.”

“Who needs to stand?”

“Standing is helpful for when you need to go to the bathroom.”

“I’m fine right here on the couch.” Thranduil nodded. He could definitely feel the effects of the alcohol now. “Where is Bard?”

“He’s bringing you your favourite six cheese tortellini.”

“Oh, bless his soul.”

“You better slow down or you won’t even be coherent enough to feed yourself!”

“Well fucking put it in the blender, pulverize it and I’ll drink it through a straw.”

“Oh, god!”

Thranduil turned his head languidly when he heard the front door opening and the sound of footsteps approaching. It seemed like Bard was walking very slowly; or maybe Thranduil’s perception was just completely skewed from all the alcohol he drank in such a short amount of time. It was hard to know for sure. Thranduil smiled when Bard came around the corner holding two big paper bags and a smaller white plastic bag. A deep hum echoed from Thranduil’s throat when he caught a whiff of the delicious smell of the food.

“Oh, there you are!” Haldir exclaimed, standing quickly. He swiped the bottle of vodka from the couch and held it up. “Did you want a drink? I think you’d enjoy a glass, yes?”

Bard looked hesitant, but he finally agreed, shrugging once he had set the bags onto the coffee table. “Ah, I guess so. Only a bit though. I’ve gotta drive home. Oh, and I’ve got ice cream here so it should probably go in the freezer or it will melt.”

“Yes, yes.” Haldir grabbed the bag which apparently contained ice cream and ran out to the kitchen. In that moment Thranduil thought Haldir’s movements were reminiscent of a Wacky-Waving-Inflatable-Arm-Flailing-Tube-Man.

Thranduil chuckled and then slid to the edge of the couch. He wasted no time opening up the paper bags. He pulled out each container of food as careful as possible. He made sure he was holding tightly enough that he would not accidentally spill anything. He could see Bard moving around in his peripheral vision. When Bard was out of Thranduil’s line of sight, he looked up to see what exactly Bard was doing.

“Do you need this?” Bard asked, holding up a newspaper.

“No.” Thranduil answered.

Haldir bounded around the corner, a glass in his hand. He had apparently already filled it and didn’t bother bringing the bottle back into the sitting room with him.

“Cunt.” Thranduil said under his breath.

“I heard that!” Haldir said, sitting the drink he had poured for Bard onto the coffee table by the containers of food.

“You heard nothing.”

Haldir rolled his eyes at Thranduil and then turned to Bard. “Your drink is here Bard. Oh, are you lighting a fire?”

Bard hummed, busying himself as he knelt down in front of the fireplace. He had put the newspaper and a few logs of wood in there and was now getting the fire going.

“Bard is extremely skilled. Look at that, he lit the fire like a professional. Unlike your sorry attempt.” Thranduil snorted.

“Hey! Look at me; do I look like the type of person that lights fires frequently?” Haldir gestured towards himself with a flick of his wrist.

“You’ve never lit a fire in your life.”

“I respect the law, Thran.”

“Bullshit.” Thranduil rolled his eyes and flipped the clear plastic lid off his pasta. He grabbed one of the plastic forks that were in the bottom of the bag and stabbed at the pasta.

“I can get a proper fork if you want. Do you want one? I can go to the kitchen. I’m in need of some juice to mix with this vodka anyway. So speak now. Fork? Bard?”

“Sure, thanks. And I’ll take some of that juice to mix with this.”

Thranduil didn’t answer. He took a huge bite of his tortellini and hummed in appreciation at the taste. It was exactly what he needed right now. After the first few bites, he realized he forgot to put the parmesan on top, so he stopped and fumbled with the small container, dumping all the cheese over his pasta once he finally got it open.

“Is it good?” Bard’s voice drew Thranduil’s attention, causing him to drop his fork and look up.

“Mmm. Yes, thanks.” Thranduil said, remembering that it was in fact Bard who had gone out of his way to get this food for him. “And thank you for getting lunch for us.”

“Not a problem.” Bard smiled.

Haldir flew back into the room holding a jug of orange juice in one hand and three forks in the other. Under his arm was the bottle of vodka. “I’m here. I’m here! I’ve got forks. Here, Thran, one for you.” Haldir thrust the fork out at Thranduil, who managed to drop it on the floor. “And one for you, Bard. And one for moi.” Haldir sat down after giving a fork to Bard. He filled his glass with orange juice and then handed the juice to Bard.

“Oh, and this is Legolas’s?” Haldir asked. A gasp came out of Thranduil’s mouth. How could he have forgotten about his little leaf? Legolas needed to eat as well. “Do you want me to go get him, Thran?” Haldir looked at Thranduil pensively, awaiting a reply. It seemed Haldir felt badly for only now thinking of Legolas as well.

“Yes. Go get him.” Thranduil reached for the vodka bottle, wondering if he should hide it from Legolas. He did not want his son to see that all three adults were drinking. He especially didn’t want Legolas to have to witness him in this drunken state. Thranduil was very aware that his drinking was bordering on excessive.  He set the bottle on the floor beside his feet.

Haldir made a mad dash out of the room, only to return less than a minute later without Legolas.

“Well, the leaf is sound asleep. So we can just keep his food for him and he can eat later! We may have stayed up a little later than normal last night.”

Normally Thranduil would have scoled Haldir for letting Legolas stay up late, but what was the point of that now? Thranduil said nothing and instead busied himself by filling his glass with a smidge more vodka. He then filled it with orange juice. He didn’t know how much more straight vodka he could handle.  

Things were quickly becoming hazy for Thranduil. But it was a good sort of hazy; it was a warm, happy sort of hazy. And Thranduil was glad for it. The haze helped to keep all his intrusive thoughts at bay. For the time being at least. His only worry right now was if he could shovel the food in his mouth fast enough to sate his hunger.

Bard and Thranduil ate in silence for the most part. Haldir, well Haldir just couldn’t stop talking. Thranduil wondered if he was actually managing to eat anything or if the only thing he was doing with his mouth was spewing his never-ending commentary.

“Oh, lord and savior! Bard, you got breadsticks! Regular and Italian? Pass me some, would you? Hmm, maybe I’ll try one of each. Oh my god, oh my god! This salad is heaven on earth!” Haldir took another forkful of the salad, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. His behavior was almost laughable. Bard gave Thranduil a look of amusement, to which Thranduil returned a suppressed chuckle.

“Try some, Thran. Here, take a bite.” Thranduil took a bite of the salad from the fork Haldir was now holding out to him. Mmm good, am I right?” Thranduil nodded and shifted his focus to his own food, trying hard not to upset the container he had balanced on his lap.

“And this pasta is to die for! Oh my, what a delectable sauce. Phew! Is there vodka in this sauce? I think there is. I’m feeling slightly off kilter! Maybe another shot will calm my nerves.”

“Hal.” Thranduil griped, “It’s alfredo sauce, there is no vodka in it.”

Haldir waved off Thranduil’s comment and turned to Bard, who was silently eating whatever it was he got for himself. “Bard, you want more?” Haldir held up the bottle of vodka after pouring a little more into his glass of orange juice.

“No, thanks. Gotta drive, remember?”

“Right! Where is my head?”

Thranduil laughed, looking up at Haldir. “Can you just shush for two seconds? All I can hear is your voice vibrating in my head!”

“You like the sound of my voice! Don’t lie, Thran! I amuse you with my ridiculous stories. Should I tell a story? I can tell you about the time when I worked as a mime to make a little extra cash on the side.”

“You got fired the same day because you couldn’t stop talking.”

“No! I excelled! I was also the limbo champ in high school. Remember that?”

“Yes, yes. I’m sure Bard doesn’t want to hear your strange stories. You reveal far too much about yourself.” Thranduil said, wagging his finger at Haldir.

“Well, you’re one to talk, Thran! I’ve seen you naked! So you can’t say anything about how much I reveal. You’ve revealed it all!”

Haldir clucked his tongue and then went silent after giving Thranduil a look of mock-horror. The sound of Bard practically choking on his food was the only sound Thranduil could hear. Thranduil looked at Bard, hoping Haldir’s comment may have slipped by without being heard, but unfortunately that was not the case. Bard’s eyebrows had shot up as far as they could go and his eyes were wide with interest, or shock, or some other emotion Thranduil could not name. Bard’s mouth was half open and he was holding his fork out in front of himself, as if he were about to shove more food in his mouth but stopped before he had the chance. He was completely frozen in place; all but his eyes, which darted back and forth between Haldir and Thranduil.

Haldir snorted and quickly put up his hands. “No, no, Bard. It’s not what you think! I’ve only ever seen naked pictures of Thran, I’ve never seen him naked in person. I mean besides when we were like five years old, but that hardly counts.”

“Pictures?” Bard said with the same dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Oh, god. No, I mean drawings! Thran used to pose nude back in college.”

“O-ohh.” Bard drew out the word so that it almost became two syllables. The look of shock had left his face, only to be replaced by an expression of curiosity.

“And not just shirtless either, he was fully naked! And you know why he did it? Go ahead; ask him why he did it. Ask him.” Haldir pushed, and then shot Thranduil a look. “Tell Bard why you did it, Thran.”

“Why?” Bard asked, his gaze fixed upon Thranduil.

Thranduil shrugged. “I don’t know. I wanted to.”

“He wanted to!” Haldir exclaimed, laughing. “I’ve never met such an exhibitionist in all my life!” He turned to Bard. “Thran will try anything twice, you know.”

“It was for a life drawing class. I didn’t just randomly strut around naked like I do these days.”

“Oh, your poor neighbours!”

“You pity them, don’t you?”

“Being forced to stare at your naked body all day, who wouldn’t pity them?” Haldir chuckled with a sarcastic tone.

It seemed this conversation was having an effect on Bard. When Thranduil looked over at him, his eyes were cast downward upon his meal, but he still could not conceal the bashful grin on his face. A part of Thranduil was hoping that Bard was picturing him naked, but he was sure that was just a thought that stemmed from consuming too much alcohol.

Thankfully, Haldir’s ADHD took him off on another tangent not long after bringing up Thranduil’s past of nude modeling. So the tension soon dissipated from the room.

As they finished off their lunch, both Thranduil and Bard remained quiet. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fireplace and Haldir droning on about one thing or another. After another shot of vodka and a deadly glare from Haldir, Thranduil could barely make out what was being said around him. Things had quickly shifted from comfortable to slightly chaotic. The warmth Thranduil had previously felt in his chest was now replaced by a feeling of disconnect, a loss of control. It was not an unpleasant loss of control though. It was the feeling of being numb; or rather the lack of feeling.

“I can’t m-move.” Thranduil slurred, his body slipping further into the couch, as if the cushions were trying to swallow him whole.

“You are wasted. You need to go to bed.”

“Not all alone. I’m so lonely.” Thranduil said in a sing-song tone.

“I’ll take you up to bed.” Bard suggested, standing from his chair.

“Oh yeah you will.” Thranduil laughed at himself. He tried to stand from the couch but failed. So he let Bard pull him up.

***

Well this was an unexpected turn of events. Bard hadn’t thought he’d be half-carrying a drunk Thranduil up to his bed. But it made sense. Of course once being presented with alcohol Thranduil would only drink and drink until he felt nothing. He would numb out and then inevitably pass out. Right now however, Thranduil had one arm slung around Bard’s neck, barely hanging on as Bard attempted to corral him towards the stairs as gently as possible. Bard had insisted that he could do this, that Haldir didn’t need to, but still Haldir voiced his protests.

“You don’t have to cart Thran up to bed, I can do it. I’ve known him longer.”

“It’s fine.” Bard dismissed. To be honest, he felt strangely protective of Thranduil so he wanted to be the one to take care of him and tuck him safely in his bed. He wanted to know Thranduil would be okay before he had to leave and get back to the children.

“Y’all are talkin’ about me as if I’m not even here.” Thranduil mumbled, resting his head against Bard’s shoulder.

“No, no, Thran! You’re here. We know.” Haldir said, trying to mollify Thranduil long enough for Bard to get him to the stairs.

“You smell gooood.” Thranduil inhaled deeply, sniffing Bard’s chest.

“C’mon.” Bard said, “Let’s get you up to bed, yeah?” Bard suppressed the urge to press a kiss to Thranduil’s head. He badly wanted to, but not in front of Haldir.

“D-don’t leave the fire going!” Thranduil suddenly exclaimed, shifting in Bard’s hold. He grimaced as he tried to pull away from Bard; it seemed he was hurting himself by struggling. So Bard loosened his grip on Thranduil’s waist.

“I’ll extinguish the fire, doll.” Bard assured Thranduil. “Come. Let’s go.”

“’Kay.” Finally Thranduil gave up trying to escape and staggered along beside Bard, letting himself be directed to the stairs.

“Lift your leg. First step.” Bard tightened his hold around Thranduil’s waist, trying his best to guide Thranduil without causing him any pain. Bard knew those wounds on his back might not be sore right now, but once Thranduil was sober he would definitely feel them again. So Bard did his best not to aggravate them.

“I-I always knew I’d get you to take me to bed. I w-wanted you from the moment I saw you.” Thranduil whispered incoherently in Bard’s ear.

Bard knew that Thranduil was drunk and his words were probably just exaggerations of the truth, so he didn’t reply. That didn’t stop the jolt he felt in his core, though.

Thranduil took slow wobbly steps up the stairs, holding on tightly to Bard’s neck. They reached the top step without too much difficulty and they shuffled along into Thranduil’s room.

“I can’t believe y-you stayed with me at the hospital. And let me sleep at your place.” Thranduil murmured, slurring his words as Bard positioned him on the bed. “My savior.”

“Of course, doll. I couldn’t have just left you alone.”

“Doll. Y’know I like when you call me that.”

Bard hummed, smiling. Thranduil was his doll, his beautiful precious doll that he wanted to protect always. “C’mon, crawl under the covers.” Bard pulled the covers down, holding them aside while Thranduil crawled up the bed. Then he took a seat on the edge of the bed as Thranduil nestled into the blankets.

“And, and you cleaned m-my blood…” Thranduil trailed off, his voice nothing more than a murmur.

“Of course.” Bard reached a hand out to stroke Thranduil’s hair, brushing the strands from his face. “You must be exhausted. So get some rest now, okay?”

“Are you gonna stay with me?” Thranduil looked in Bard’s direction with heavily lidded eyes. It wouldn’t be long before he was sound asleep.

Bard didn’t want to leave Thranduil like this, especially when Thranduil was asking him if he was going to stay. But Bard could not stay with Thranduil any longer today. He had things that needed to be done at home and he didn’t want to leave the children alone for so long. Knowing that Haldir was going to be staying with Thranduil helped to ease Bard’s mind.

“I can’t, Thran. I’ve gotta get home now, but I’m only a phone call away. Haldir will be here when you wake up.”

Thranduil pursed his lips into a pout as his eyes slipped shut. “He’s so…so…loud, and….”

“You can call me if you need anything, or text. And I’ll come see you tomorrow, yes?”

“Mmm.” Thranduil nodded.

Bard ran his hand through Thranduil’s hair again and then reached for the warm blanket that was on the end of the bed. He draped it over Thranduil’s body, pulling it up to Thranduil’s chin snugly. It appeared as though Thranduil was already asleep, so Bard leaned over and pressed a soft kiss onto Thranduil’s forehead.

“Sleep well, my beautiful doll.”

Bard went back down stairs, taking slow regretful steps. He wanted nothing more than to stay with Thranduil, hold him while he slept. Bard wanted to press delicate kisses in his hair and sing soothing songs to him and be there beside him when he awoke. But reality was calling and Bard had to go home.

When Bard got back to the sitting room, Haldir was swaying back and forth in front of the fire, stabbing at the wood with the fire poker. Upon Bard’s entry, he turned around quickly and pulled the fire poker out of the fire. He held it in front of him like some sort of weapon.

“Is he okay?” Haldir asked.

“Yes, he’s sleeping.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, you should let him sleep through the night.” Bard said, pulling the change from lunch out of his pocket and setting it on the table. “Here’s your change.”

“Thanks. And I will let Thran sleep. If he wakes up it will be on his own. I won’t be doing any waking!”

“Good. Well…I ought to get going now.”

“Okay, yes. You have kids…Thran told me.”

“Yeah. I can’t leave them for too long. They’ll wonder where I am.”

“Okay, so I won’t keep you. But I think maybe we should exchange numbers so I can contact you if I need to…”

“Yes, sounds good.” Bard took his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Haldir, who passed him his phone in return. Bard added his contact information into Haldir’s phone and then gave it back once Haldir had finally finished typing in his information. Clearly it had taken Haldir so long because he went through the trouble of putting emojis into his name.

“Thank you, Bard. For everything you did today. For the food, and helping Thran and being there for him, and calming my ass down. You are a kind soul and it means a lot to me that you care so much about my friend.”

“I do care about him. A lot.”

“Good. Just don’t hurt him, or I’ll murder you.” Haldir grinned jokingly. Although Bard would bet it was no joke.

“I would never. He is precious to me.” Bard confessed.

“Good. That’s what I like to hear. He’s been through enough shit in his life.”

“I know. I will only ever treasure him.”

“You better.”

“Oh, and call me if you need anything.” Bard offered. He wanted to make sure Haldir knew he could contact him if Thranduil needed anything.

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

“You’re really not as drunk as you let on, are you?”

“Nope. I only had like two and a half shots. I played it up for Thran.” Haldir chuckled, walking Bard to the door.

Bard said goodbye to Haldir and made his way outside to his car. He started the engine and just like that he was on his way back to his own reality.

 

***

Haldir threw himself down on the couch, leaning his head all the way back as he let his thoughts take over. He wouldn’t be able to get through the rest of the day if he didn’t have a much needed chat with himself. He was the best listener after all.

_Sweet baby jesus, give me strength. Keep me bound to this house and let me not go after Galion. Keep me sane. And although nothing would make me happier, do not let me tear his fucking esophagus out! Shit, this queen in jail would be a travesty. The things they would do to me while the guards watched. Sick. Just like Galion. I can’t fucking believe that piece of shit raped my best friend. Actually, I can believe it and it makes me so fucking sick. But I’m here and I’ll stay as long as he needs me. And he has Bard; the man is a gift from the gods, I swear. Bless his socks! I’ll need clothes and a toothbrush, but no, Thran probably has extra toothbrushes. But I can’t leave the house now. I’ll wear Thran’s clothes for the time being and…oh, I need to make a lunch for Legolas and get him to the bus stop. Ugh, find out what time he needs to be at the bus. I must ask him when he wakes up. And we cannot be late. Ah, but I could drive him to school. Thran will most likely be out of commission for the night. Poor thing, drinking like a fish to forget. It hurts my soul! Oh, Lord, you motherfucker…why did you let this happen to him?! And what would have happened if Bard wasn’t there? Galion would have killed Thranduil. I am sure of it. Just stop thinking. Do something else. Make some cupcakes. Yes, tomorrow cupcakes shall be made! Three different kinds with sprinkles and fluffy frosting! Oh, Thran will love it. And Legolas will too. Ah, fucking work. To take the day off or not to take the day off… I could just get some work done from here. Yes, it is settled. Thran is more important than work and I wouldn’t want to leave him alone. Alone…what would he do? God, Haldir, do not think of it! He wouldn’t hurt himself, would he? He wouldn’t…commit suicide?! NO, no, no…just stop! Shut up brain, shut up. Go check on Legolas. Just haul your ass up off the couch and go! Stop ruminating._

Haldir jumped up from the couch. He shook his entire body in spastic motions as if he were trying to physically rid himself of his worries. He already put away the bottle of vodka, cleaned up the food containers and put Legolas’s lunch in the fridge while Bard was tending to Thranduil upstairs. Staying still was something Haldir had never been very good at, especially when he was stressed. He dashed around the room tidying up and straightening the cushions on the couch. Even though Bard had extinguished the fire earlier, Haldir poked around at the ashes and made sure it was out. Nothing would be left to chance. Just Haldir’s luck and the fire wouldn’t actually be out properly and the house would go up in flames and kill them all.

No, Haldir did not need any more surprises today.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me things?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir's presence is an annoyance, but Thranduil finds relief in texting Bard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to tone down the angst

It wasn’t surprising that as soon as Bard arrived home, Sigrid opened the door immediately to greet him. She wrapped her arms around him without saying a word, giving him a much needed embrace. Bard didn’t speak. He was exhausted. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, worrying too much about Thranduil. This morning was much the same. He had been on constant alert, reminding himself over and over to be mindful of Thranduil’s situation and not say the wrong thing.

Now that he was at home, he let out a sigh of relief. Sigrid gave him a pensive look after he had removed his shoes and jacket, but she did not speak. It must have been clear from Bard’s expression that he needed the silence right now.

But finally, after Bard had settled onto the couch, Sigrid spoke.

“I hope everything is okay with your friend, Da.”

Bard hummed. “It was a rough night and morning for him, but things will get better,” he said without conviction.

“I hope so.” Sigrid replied. “I can’t believe that happened. And that you were there during the whole thing.”

“I know, honey. It’s hard to believe that something like this happened. But people can be cruel.”

“I know.” Sigrid nodded. “Do you want lunch?”

“I already ate at Thranduil’s house. But thanks anyway, Sig.”

Sigrid let Bard know that she managed well with Tilda this morning, getting her sister out of bed at a reasonable time and preparing breakfast and lunch for them. Bain had come home not long before Bard had arrived, but was in his room playing video games. And according to Sigrid he was in another one of his broody moods. Tilda was in the shower which explained why she hadn’t come bounding down the stairs to greet Bard upon his arrival home.

The day went by without much trouble. Tilda asked a few questions about what happened yesterday, wondering why Bard didn’t come home before she went to bed, but luckily Sigrid had already done her best to explain things to her younger sister, so the questions were manageable. Bard did laundry, tidied the house, and cleaned the bathrooms as he tried to figure out what he would make for supper. Sigrid helped with the housework and Tilda followed Bard around helping in whatever way she could. Bain had still not emerged from his room.

Supper was made, the table was set and Bard finally called Bain down to eat. He was met with a glower and a grunt from his son, barely acknowledging his father’s presence. Bard had hoped Bain would have gotten over the argument they had a few nights ago, but something still seemed to be bothering him.

“How was your sleepover?” Bard ventured, once they were all sat around the table.

“Fine.” Bain answered, without so much as looking up.

“Don’t be so cranky!” Tilda exclaimed, popping a cherry tomato from her salad into her mouth.

“Shut up, Tilda.”

“Hey, Bain, don’t talk to your sister that way.” Bard warned.

“What?” Bain looked up, a silent anger in his eyes. “Why do you care? It’s not like you’re ever here anymore anyway. Out all night and all day with your…boyfriend!” Bain spat the last word and looked back down to his food.

“Bain. I don’t have a boyfriend. I have a friend who has just been through a very rough patch and I wanted to be there for him. It’s the same thing you would do for one of your friends if they got hurt. I think you can understand this.”

Bain rolled his eyes.

“Just like when Trevor’s grandfather passed away and he missed all those days of school. You took notes for him and collected his homework. You helped him, just like I am helping my friend.”

“I guess.” Bain said with a look of defeat.

After that it remained silent at the dinner table. Bain went back upstairs once he finished eating and Sigrid and Tilda helped to clear the table and do the dishes.

It seemed impossible to get through to Bain. Bard didn’t know if it was just the typical teenaged angst, or if this had more to do with Madison’s abandonment. For now, Bard didn’t let it weigh too heavily on his mind. There was enough going on right now. He had faith that Bain’s mood swings would pass with time.

He could only hope.

 

***

Sunlight filtered in through the blinds, illuminating the room in which Thranduil remained curled around his blanket.

Slowly, he was pulled from his dreamless sleep. He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes before looking around the room. How had he gotten into bed? What time was it? Clearly it was morning, but what day was it?

Shit.

It was Monday. Legolas had to get to school. Thranduil jerked to look at the clock; it was past eight. He flung the covers off, swung his legs from the bed and stood up shakily. He took a moment to steady himself, regaining his balance before taking a step.

Then, he rushed out of his room and hurried into Legolas’s. Legolas was not in bed. Only then did it register. Haldir had decided to stay at Thranduil’s house. It was possible that he took Legolas to the bus stop. But since Thranduil could not be sure, he thudded down the stairs.

The smell of bacon assaulted his nose as he reached the main level of the house. Was Haldir cooking? Wasn’t he supposed to be at work?

Thranduil padded into the kitchen to find Haldir standing in front of the stove. He was humming an old broadway tune and flipping bacon.

“Thran!” He shouted over the sound of the kitchen fan. “You’re up!”

“Where’s Legolas?”

“I took him out to the bus stop. No worries.”

“What about his lunch?”

“Have you no faith in me? I packed his lunch last night and made sure he had his completed homework in his bag. I’ve got it under control, Thran. Don’t you worry.”

Thranduil sighed, relief washing over him. “Thank you.”

“Of course, that’s what I’m here for. How are you feeling today?”

“A bit groggy. Major headache.”

“Go shower and put on some comfy clothes, breakfast will be ready once you come back down! I can make some tea for you, would you like tea?”

“Sure. Can I have jumpy monkey? I want the kind of energy you have.”

“Yup. Lucky for me I don’t need any jumpy monkey to give me these insane amounts of energy! So, go, go. Shower, get changed and I’ll have everything ready for you!”

“Thanks, Hal.”

“Anything for my partner in crime.”

“Uh…don’t you have work today?”

“I took the day off. You need me more than those people do. And besides, I can work from here. I stopped at home and picked up my laptop and some other stuff after I took Legolas to the bus.”

“Don’t skip work because of me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.” Haldir chuckled, pulling the cooked bacon strips from the pan, laying them out onto a paper towel he had positioned atop a plate.

“Yeah, yeah.” Thranduil rolled his eyes and waved a hand.

He went back upstairs as quickly as his legs would carry him and hopped in the shower. The hassle of avoiding his stitches was too much trouble, so he tied up his hair and did not bother to wash it. The welts on his back did not sting as much today as they did yesterday, but that did not mean the pain had disappeared. He would have to take a painkiller once he went back down stairs.

Thranduil washed meticulously, stepped out of the shower and dried off. He made sure not to look at himself in the mirror, except for when he took the bandage off his head to clean the stitches. It was a tedious process and looking at the little fibers holding his flesh together made him weak.

He swallowed hard, replacing the old bandage with a fresh one. Then he got dressed in a pair of warm leggings and a cozy old sweater and headed back down stairs.

Plates of food were set on the table along with a glass of orange juice and a cup of tea. Haldir was already sitting down in front of his plate, but had not started eating.

“Come, eat. Don’t let it get cold!” Haldir motioned for Thranduil to sit.

Thranduil ate but his patience was beginning to wear thin. His head was pounding, his limbs felt heavier than usual and Haldir’s rambling didn’t help. It seemed the food commentary would never end.

Finally, Haldir got up from the table, allowing Thranduil the chance to get up as well. Haldir rinsed the dishes and put them into the dishwasher, ignoring Thranduil’s offer to help. Now was the perfect time to make his escape. Thranduil wanted peace and quiet, and he knew his wish would not be granted if he had to be around Haldir all day. Thranduil took a painkiller and headed for the stairs. He needed to retreat to the safety of his bed.

“Where’re you going?”

“I want to lie down. I feel like shit.”

“Thanks, vodka.” Haldir said sarcastically. “I’m gonna get some work done, then. And don’t worry about Legolas I’ll get him from the bus stop.”

“Thanks.” Thranduil said, leaving the kitchen.

“Holler if you need anything!” Haldir yelled.

Once Thranduil was back in bed and wrapped up in the covers, he let himself relax. But the feeling of relaxation did not last long. Now that he was completely alone, images of the previous two days played on repeat in his mind; over and over and over. He tried to force away these disturbing thoughts but they were too strong for him to fight.

It was time that he came to terms with what had happened on Saturday. He knew the truth despite continuously telling himself otherwise. Galion had raped him. He knew that; but that word – rape – was too difficult to accept. Even after getting shitfaced drunk the feelings had not disappeared. In fact, they seemed to be all the more intense.

Not liking where his thoughts were headed, he grabbed his mobile from the nightstand in hopes of distracting himself.

Much to his surprise, he had an unread text message. It was from Bard.

Thranduil’s heartbeat quickened as he opened the message.

[From: Bard] 7:01am – Hey doll. Just wanted to let you know I’m thinking about you. Hope your day goes well.

A grin crept onto his face. He hesitated for a moment before typing a reply.

[To: Bard] 9:04am – Hey, thanks. I hope your day goes well, too. And of course I am thinking of you also. ;)

Thranduil set his phone back on the nightstand; he knew Bard was probably at work right now and would not be able to text him back until later. He nestled back into the pillows and fell asleep.

The next time he woke, it was past noon and Haldir had already made lunch and had set it out on the table as soon as Thranduil appeared in the kitchen. Haldir had done everything. He called the locksmiths when Thranduil was sleeping. They had already been to the house, fixed the locks on the door, and had been paid by Haldir.

The house had been cleaned, swept and looked practically spotless again. While Thranduil did appreciate Haldir’s efforts, it quickly became annoying. He felt like a patient in a hospital being taken care of as if he could no longer care for himself.  How long would he be able to stay sane with Haldir waiting on him hand and foot? It was only a matter of time, sooner rather than later, he imagined.

As Thranduil ate, Haldir made conversation, talking mostly of irrelevant topics. Was he purposely trying to distract Thranduil? Because it wasn’t working; it only made Thranduil worry more. Haldir was trying so hard to make Thranduil feel better, going out of his way to make sure everything felt normal.

Thranduil felt bad that his best friend had to walk on eggshells around him.

So as soon as he finished eating, he put his plate in the dishwasher – clean flatware and silverware already emptied, thanks to Haldir – and made his way for the stairs.

“Hey!” Haldir beckoned after him. “Aren’t you gonna stay and hang out? We could watch a movie or something…”

Thranduil turned just before reaching the first step. He really wasn’t in the mood for Haldir’s movie commentary. Haldir could go on and on about the plot, the actors, the dialogue for hours on end. It wouldn’t be watching a movie, it would be listening to Haldir make witty remarks about the movie. It was worse than Don Cherry’s hockey commentary.

He shook his head, trying to decline the offer, but the look on Haldir’s face made him quickly change his mind. His poor friend looked exhausted, probably overwhelmed with all that had taken place in the past twenty-four hours. Despite Haldir’s usual cheery expression, there was sadness evident in his eyes. So, like a good friend, Thranduil agreed to watch a movie with him.

Thranduil ended up falling asleep during the movie, and when he awoke, Haldir was just getting back from the bus stop with Legolas in tow.

After making a snack for Legolas, Haldir started preparing dinner. Thranduil paced around the kitchen, feeling particularly useless. He was in Haldir’s way. So once Legolas had changed out of his school clothes and finished his snack, Thranduil sat with him on the couch and watched cartoons for an hour.

Haldir cooked a delicious stew for dinner and trashed the kitchen in the process. It was difficult for Thranduil to eat when the kitchen was in such disarray. But Haldir assured him that he would clean everything up and it would be as if the mess had never been there at all.

Once dinner was eaten, Haldir cleaned up the kitchen while Thranduil helped Legolas with his homework. Haldir somehow managed to tidy the kitchen at super-speed and joined Thranduil and Legolas at the table to help with Legolas’s homework as well. When it was clear that Haldir knew more about third grade math than Thranduil did – Thranduil couldn’t even remember how to do long division – he left the table and went upstairs.

What was the point of him being there, anyway? He didn’t know anything. Haldir could do a better job helping Legolas than he could.

Bored out of his mind, Thranduil went into his closet to organize his clothes. His eyes lingered upon the garbage bags full of Galion’s clothes that were still left in the closet from a few days ago. He cringed. He hadn’t even gotten to throw them out onto the lawn as he kicked Galion out of the house like he had originally planned. That fucker’s things were still taking up space in his house, still haunting him.

He kicked one of the bags and flicked off the light in the closet. Looking at the bags that held Galion’s personal items made him sick. So much for organizing his clothes. Galion had once again stopped him from doing something he wanted to do.

God, he was still being controlled.

But there was one thing Galion could not control. Thranduil sat on his bed and grabbed his phone. Bard had texted him back. He smiled perversely; Galion couldn’t stop him from talking to Bard. Galion couldn’t control the way he felt about Bard.

So, Thranduil spent most of the evening exchanging text messages with Bard.

Thankfully, they didn’t talk about anything heavy. Bard had only asked how Thranduil felt today, but did not bring up any uncomfortable topics. They talked about work, food, simple things like favourite colours and favourite types of food. Thranduil learned that Bard’s favourite colour was Prussian blue, a colour that Thranduil liked to use in his painting fairly frequently. He also learned that Bard loved grapes – the green seedless kind, and was a huge fan of pumpkin pie and eating peanut butter straight out of the jar.

Talking to Bard kept Thranduil occupied and content for most of the night until it was time to get Legolas to bed. Thranduil had wished Bard a good night and told him he would talk to him again tomorrow.

He went to see to Legolas, but found Haldir in his son’s room already tucking the boy into bed.

If Thranduil knew Haldir was going to being taking on a fatherly role, getting Legolas ready for bed and tucking him in, then Thranduil would have just stayed in his room and continued talking to Bard.

Feeling rather defeated, he got ready for bed and forced himself to sleep just so that he would have something to do.

 

***

When Thranduil emerged from his bedroom on Tuesday morning, Legolas had already been taken to the bus stop and Haldir was in the kitchen making breakfast. It was like déjà vu; this was the exact same scene from yesterday morning.

Thranduil rubbed his eyes and took a seat at the island counter. Haldir greeted him and finished cooking breakfast. He plated the food and set it in front of Thranduil.

“I thought I would make you breakfast before I go to work.” Haldir said, shoveling a piece of toast into his mouth.

“Thanks.” Thranduil replied with a monotone expression.

Haldir shot Thranduil an incredulous glance before downing a cup of coffee. “You’re welcome. I’ll pick up Legolas from school today and we’ll be home before five.”

“Okay.”

After Haldir left, a weight seemed to lift from Thranduil’s shoulders. Fucking Haldir. Thranduil knew he was only trying to help but did he not realize how worthless it made Thranduil feel in the process? Haldir had been doing everything around the house. So once Thranduil was alone, there was nothing for him to do.

Laundry? Done.

Cleaning? Done.

Ah, he could at least make himself lunch today. But when he checked the fridge he notice a Tupperware container already put together for his lunch. Fucking Haldir.

The rest of the day was spent in bed. Thranduil didn’t have much energy to do anything other than rest. He didn’t feel like showering or washing his hair, not wanting to have to look at his own body in the mirror.

When Haldir and Legolas arrived home, Thranduil was on the couch. He barely noticed them entering the room; he was staring at the wall, lost in his own thoughts.

Haldir was able to run the household so smoothly. Thranduil could disappear and his absence wouldn’t even be known. Legolas didn’t need him. No one needed him.

He was just taking up space.

That night he found himself in bed much earlier than usual, not even bothering to tuck Legolas in. Haldir had it all under control.

Maybe tomorrow he would assert himself more.

For now, he just wanted to sleep.

 

***

Bard was at work when it happened.

It was a few minutes after Bard’s lunch hour and he had not put his phone away yet. He had been texting Thranduil during most of his break. Just as went to work on his next job, he realized his phone was still in his pocket and he decided it would be best to put it back in his locker. Not only was it unprofessional to have a phone out on the job, it was also a safety hazard. So Bard went back into the break room and unlocked his locker.

His phone chimed.

Who was texting him now? He already told Thranduil he was going back to work.

He pressed the button, illuminating the screen.

Madison.

What the hell.

He opened the text. His features contorted into a grimace.

[From: Madison] 1:06pm – Just wanted to let you know I signed the divorce papers. I am moving to Vancouver this coming Monday. Tell the kids.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Bard mouthed, shaking his head in disbelief.

Was she being serious? Sure, she said she signed the divorce papers. That was a relief. But moving? The children would be devastated. And this was her way of letting them know? A three sentence text to Bard, this was all her own children were worth? A pathetic text message? Did they not deserve more than this? How was Bard supposed to tell them that their mother had just up and left, that she would be miles away, that they’d probably never see her again? How could she be so heartless?

Bard inhaled a sharp breath, fury rising. When he exhaled he slammed his fist into the locker. He did it again and again.

Then, he went back to work.

When Bard told the children after supper that night, Sigrid and Bain traded looks – angry and hurt, but not surprised.

Tilda cried.

***

It was just past nine o’clock when Thranduil finally managed to escape Haldir. All evening he had been listening to stories about ‘the good old days’ and detailed descriptions of all of Haldir’s dreams and the hidden meanings behind each of them. Thranduil was exhausted. He had known Haldir practically all his life but had never spent so much consecutive time with him. It had become extremely draining, even after only three days.

After putting Legolas to bed, Thranduil retreated to his room and closed the door quietly. As much as he appreciated Haldir’s concern, he felt like a prisoner in his own home, stalking around silently as to not draw Haldir’s attention. Thranduil could hear the noise of the television even with his door closed. It crossed his mind to tell Haldir to turn it down because Legolas needed to fall asleep, but he did nothing. If Thranduil ventured back down stairs he may very well get trapped in a conversation with Haldir. And right now, he just wanted to be alone.

Although… There was one person Thranduil wouldn’t mind spending some time with.

He grinned as he perched on the end of the bed and swiped his mobile from the nightstand.

He read over the texts he had exchanged with Bard earlier in the day. A smile washed over Thranduil’s face when his eyes stopped upon the little heart Bard sent him before telling him he had to go back to work.

“Thran?” Three knocks on the door startled Thranduil. He clutched his chest and set his phone on the bed.

“What?” Thranduil yelled out. God damn nosy Haldir.

“Can I come in?” Haldir asked, banging on the door again.

“I’m naked, go away.”

“Fine! Come back down stairs when you’re done doing…whatever it is you’re doing…I want to show you something.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Thranduil drawled, satisfied that his tactic for getting rid of Haldir actually worked.

He rid himself of his clothes; it felt nice to be free of the confines of a shirt and pants. He got back on the bed and flattened himself out on his stomach as it was the most comfortable position. Then, he opened up his messages.

It didn’t take long before he was typing out a message to Bard.

[To: Bard] 9:13pm – Hey handsome. How’s your night going?

Thranduil rested his cheek upon the mattress and closed his eyes as he waited for Bard’s reply.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. Not two minutes had passed before the familiar ding drew his eyes back open.

[From: Bard] 9:15pm – hey darling. my night has been….interesting. how about yours? Haldir still annoying you?

[To: Bard] 9:16pm – Uh oh. Interesting how? Mine’s alright. I’ve finally escaped Haldir, lol. I’m so close to strangling him.

[From: Bard] 9:16pm – Don’t strangle him lol. He means well. You wanna know what happened today?

[To: Bard] 9:17pm – If you want to tell me…

[From: Bard] 9:19pm – well, Madison signed the divorce papers, but according to the text she sent me she’s moving to the other side of the country. She didn’t even have the decency to tell the kids in person. She told me to tell them when she texted me.

[To: Bard] 9:20pm – Bitch.

[From: Bard] 9:20pm – Yes. I can’t believe her. Tilda has been crying all evening.

[To: Bard] 9:21pm – Poor little angel. I hope she’s okay.

[From: Bard] 9:22pm – she’ll be fine.

[To: Bard] 9:22pm – I’m sorry

[From: Bard] 9:22pm – It’s okay. Maybe it’s better this way.

[To: Bard] 9:22pm- No I’m not

[From: Bard] 9:23pm – not what?

[To: Bard] 9:23pm – Not sorry.

[From: Bard] 9:23pm – why not?

[To: Bard] 9:24pm – it’s not my place to say this, but from what you’ve told me she does not seem like a very good mother to your children. And she treated you like shit. That’s unacceptable.

[From: Bard] 9:25pm – It’s okay, doll. I’ll get over it

[To: Bard] 9:25pm – I hope so. I’ve got plans, you know…

[From: Bard] 9:26pm – plans? For what?

[To: Bard] 9:26pm – for how we are going to celebrate your divorce ;)

[From: Bard] 9:27pm – oh yeah? And how would you like to celebrate my divorce?

[To: Bard] 9:27pm – I can think of a few things…

[From: Bard] 9:27pm – such as?

[To: Bard] 9:27pm – steamy things…

[From: Bard] 9:28pm – How steamy??

[To: Bard] 9:28pm – as much as you can handle

[From: Bard] 9:28pm – that might be quite a lot…

[To: Bard] 9:28pm – I’m willing to find out

[From: Bard] 9:29pm – oh, are you now? What’ll you do if I say I am, too?

[To: Bard] 9:29pm – I’d say you better get your ass over here

[From: Bard] 9:30pm – When?

[To: Bard] 9:30pm – When are you free?

[From: Bard] 9:30pm – Friday after work?

[To: Bard] 9:30pm – Mmm, sounds good to me.

After saying goodnight to Bard, Thranduil got ready for bed and nestled under the covers. A smile widened on his face.

He had just made a date with Bard.

 

***

After Haldir had taken Legolas out to the bus stop, Thranduil spent the majority of the day down in his studio forcing himself to paint. He wasn’t inspired, the muse hadn’t made a miraculous appearance; he was just bored and needed something to keep himself occupied. Especially since today was Haldir’s day off.

Haldir had suggested a trip to the mall, but Thranduil had flat out refused that offer. He didn’t want to venture out into public with his battered face on display for all to see. The stares would only cause him to retreat back into the house where he would hole himself into his room until the end of time.

No, no public places today.

Thankfully, Haldir had gone out to the grocery store because apparently the fridge was bare and Haldir wanted to get some special ingredients so he could do some baking this afternoon. As long as he didn’t make a mess, Thranduil was fine with Haldir doing whatever he wanted in the kitchen.

Surprisingly, Thranduil was feeling good – well, maybe not good, but he was definitely feeling better than he had in the past few days. He attributed his mood to the texts he had exchanged last night with Bard. So instead of working on the commission for Thierry Durinson, he began another abstract.

He purposely selected three of his favourite colours to use as the main colours of the painting.

Mint, eggplant and ultramarine.

But what had started off as a happy, colourful painting, quickly turned somber and depressing the longer Thranduil worked on it.

“Fuck you.” He griped, smacking the coated paint brush onto the canvas.

Eventually, he prepared another canvas and worked on two pieces simultaneously. He used the squeegee to drag the paint, creating the desired effect. But still, he was not thrilled with what he had produced so he covered both canvases with gesso and began again.

He thought of the irony of painting over such a mess. If only he could cover up his own trauma so easily. Fill in all the ugly holes and make something beautiful.

Thranduil wasn’t aware of how long he had been working in his studio, so when the sound of laughter and music was heard from upstairs he checked the time on his mobile.

It was past four-thirty now, which meant Legolas must be home. How did Thranduil manage to get so caught up painting that it didn’t even register that his son had gotten back from school? It was also a miracle that Haldir had not bothered him all day.

Thranduil washed his paint brushes and cleaned off his palette.

The noise drew him up the stairs.

He knew Haldir said he would be baking today, but nothing prepared Thranduil for the disaster he witnessed when he turned the corner and entered the kitchen. Dirty dishes and baking tools were strewn about, no longer place for them in the full sink. There was a light dusting of flour or sugar upon the floor which neither Haldir nor Legolas seemed bothered by.

Thranduil cringed at the volume of the disco music that was coming from Haldir’s laptop.

Haldir was pouring a measuring cup of powdered sugar into a bowl, beating it vigorously with a whisk as Legolas frolicked around the island counter, shaking a small jar of sprinkles into his hand and smattering them atop already iced cupcakes.

“Oh, fiddlesticks! Now we’ve got sprinkles everywhere! What are we going to do?!” Haldir laughed when Legolas spilled sprinkles onto the floor.

“Haldir, what the hell is going on?!” Thranduil said, hands on his hips.

“Uncle Haldir is making cupcakes, Ada. Three different kinds. And I’m helping with the sprinkles and icing now!” Legolas exclaimed loudly, bouncing on his heels.

Thranduil furrowed his brow. He could barely hear himself think with how loud the music was. Haldir was swaying his hips back and forth as he looked up from mixing the bowl of chocolate icing. He grinned at Thranduil and started rolling his shoulders and flipping his hair along to the beat of the music.

God, why didn’t he have his hair tied up while he was baking?!

Legolas stopped the music coming from Haldir’s laptop, drawing a sigh of relief from Thranduil now that the room was silent. The little boy chuckled as he scrolled through the list of songs before he chose one.

“Uncle Hal, it’s your song!” Legolas giggled.

And suddenly, the stereotypically gay anthem ‘It’s Raining Men’ began blaring. Legolas bounded over to Thranduil, moving along to the music and Haldir stopped mixing icing and grabbed a broom to dance with.

Thranduil couldn’t help but laugh at the way Haldir moved; it was so over exaggerated and dramatic. Legolas started laughing hysterically when Haldir held his arms up and shimmied his hands as if he were ready to catch the imaginary men that rained from the sky.

Legolas grabbed Thranduil’s hands, trying to get him to dance along as well, which Thranduil did with some reluctance. The mess in the kitchen was too much of a distraction for Thranduil to allow himself to let go completely. There were rainbow sprinkles all over the floor, flour powdered lightly upon the counter and icing smeared on the handle of the fridge.

When the song was over and Haldir had stopped dancing so wildly, Thranduil escaped Legolas and reached for the broom. He worked around Haldir, trying to sweep up the fallen sprinkles.

“Thran, just leave it! We’ll clean up later!” Haldir protested, kicking at the broom with his feet when Thranduil got too close.

“It’s like a warzone in here, Hal.”

“But we’re having fun, Ada!” Legolas said. “Try some icing.”

Legolas fetched a spoon and took a scoop, holding it out to Thranduil. He tasted it and surprisingly, it was delicious. But he would never say so out loud. He didn’t want to add fuel to Haldir’s fire.

“Ah, not bad.”

“Not bad?!” Haldir wailed, turning from the oven where he had just pulled out two more cupcake pans and set them onto the cooling rack. “These ones are going to be chocolate peanut butter.”

“Yeah, we got mini reese peanut butter cups to put on top!” Legolas said with enthusiasm, holding up the bag of chocolates.

“And who’s going to clean up this mess?” Thranduil inquired, tapping his foot.

“Ada! Don’t be such a grouch!”

“Yeah, Thran! Don’t be such a grouch. Help us out and we’ll clean up after.”

“You mean I’ll clean up after.”

“No, no, no. I’ll do it. Don’t worry your pale ass about it.”

“Fine. What can I do then?” Thranduil asked, setting the broom aside and hoping the mess wouldn’t get any worse. It couldn’t now that he was there to keep things in check.

Haldir got Thranduil to ice the cupcakes that had already cooled as Legolas added green and blue food colouring to the frosting Haldir was currently mixing.

“Such a fabulous colour you’ve chosen, little leaf!” Haldir said, swiping up a bit of icing from the side of the bowl and licking it off his finger. “Ooo, and it tastes like a buttercream dream!”

Thranduil rolled his eyes, but continued piping the raspberry icing onto the angel food cupcakes with precision. He was nothing if not a perfectionist. Legolas eventually abandoned icing-making so he could watch how Thranduil filled the piping bag.

“Can I try?” Legolas asked, looking at the iced cupcakes with amazement.

“Of course, my leaf.”

Thranduil showed Legolas how to hold the piping bag properly, and helped him squeeze out the right amount of icing, swirling it into a peak.

“Look, see how good you did?”

“I did it, Ada! Not as good as yours, though.”

“They look wonderful, leaf.” Thranduil kissed Legolas on the head and let his son finish off the two remaining cupcakes.

Although Thranduil was not too thrilled about the state of the kitchen, it was good to see his son laughing and having fun. It was good for Thranduil to laugh, too, even if he was on the verge of beating Haldir with the spatula.

“Okay! Looks like we are all done!” Haldir announced, turning the music down to a reasonable volume. “Just need to finish icing these little pieces of perfection and then we can clean up.”

Legolas cheered, clearly eager to taste the sugary treats.

Haldir frosted the chocolate peanut butter cupcakes and Legolas added the peanut butter cups while Thranduil swept up the mess on the floor.

“Sit down, Thran. I’ve got this.”

“You won’t do it the way I like, and then I’ll just have to do it again anyway.”

“Sweet Jesus! There is no pleasing you, is there?” Haldir griped, licking the remnants of frosting from the bowl.

“Some people can please me. But you aren’t one of them.”

“Oh, pish posh!” Haldir chuckled and handed the icing bowl over to Legolas, who swiped at what little was left.

Once the bowls were licked clean, all three of them worked together to put the kitchen back into order. And when Thranduil was finally satisfied, they sat down at the table to reward themselves with a cupcake.

Thranduil tried the raspberry cream one, Legolas had the vanilla with rainbow sprinkles and Haldir chose the chocolate peanut butter.

“Oh, this is like someone came in my mouth!” Haldir moaned.

“Haldir!”

“What does that mean?” Legolas asked, stuffing the last bite of cupcake into his mouth.

“It means nothing, leaf. Uncle Haldir is gross, that’s all.” Thranduil shot Haldir a look, as if to say ‘shut the fuck up’, but Haldir only shrugged.

“Mm-mmm. I should really try out for one of those baking competitions. I could give them all a run for their money with this delectable treat!”

“Except for the fact that none of these recipes are your own…”

“Ohhh, yes Uncle Hal, go on the Food Network! You’d win, for sure.”

“You’d be chopped,” Thranduil snorted, unable to hide his amusement.

“Ada is so sour, isn’t he, Legs? Even after all that sugar.”

“Sour Ada.”

“I’m not sour, leaf. I’m just joking.” Thranduil brushed his hand through Legolas’s hair before the boy got up from the table and scampered off into the living room to watch television.

Once Legolas was well out of earshot, Thranduil shook his head at Haldir. “Like someone came in your mouth? Really?”

“Well, I meant like an orgasm of the mouth, but I wasn’t going to correct myself!”

“These raspberry cream ones are good, I will admit.”

Thranduil and Haldir washed the dishes in companionable silence. When everything was put away, Thranduil went to find Legolas and get him started on his homework. Haldir stayed in the kitchen, searching for new recipes on his laptop.

After Legolas had finished his homework and they had eaten dinner, Thranduil went up stairs to take a shower. The welts on his back had gone down drastically in size and they did not cause him as much pain anymore. Thank the gods for polysporin and painkillers. The wound on his head was healing well. He removed the bandage and cleaned it carefully, coating it with ointment before covering it with a new, smaller bandage. He recalled what the EMTs had said about returning to the hospital in twelve to fourteen days to have the stitches removed.

As he undressed in front of the mirror, he tried not to look at himself from his own perspective, but rather tried to see himself the way someone like Bard would see him. Bard had made his attraction to Thranduil clear, so when he thought about how Bard viewed him, he did not judge himself so harshly.

After he washed and dried off, he got into a baggy t-shirt and some sweats and headed to Legolas’s room where his son was reading and getting ready for bed.

He read with Legolas for a while, enjoying his son’s company. Any time spent with Legolas made Thranduil feel good, he drew strength from Legolas’s presence, helping him heal.

Once he had tucked Legolas in to bed and kissed him goodnight, he padded back to his room to unwind. There was a lot for Thranduil to think about that he had not had a chance to earlier in the day. Now that he was alone in the privacy of his bedroom, he could let his thoughts wander.

Over the past few days, texting Bard had become something Thranduil could not resist. It became routine – something he looked forward to every day.

After their conversation last night, Thranduil felt quite pleased with himself. He had boldly flirted with Bard and managed to invite him over on Friday evening. Despite wanting to spend time with Bard, he was worried that he had overstepped with the way he flirted so shamelessly. Would Bard take it the wrong way and think all Thranduil wanted was to have sex with him? Thranduil knew he was not ready for that yet; it was too soon for him to even consider taking such a serious step in their relationship.

Their relationship…what was their relationship, anyway? Were they a couple or was Bard only sticking around out of worry, or was sex all he wanted from Thranduil? No, it couldn’t be that. Bard was a good person; he’d been so supportive of Thranduil. He didn’t seem like the type to just want sex. Thranduil made a mental note to remember to ask Bard what they were to each other tomorrow evening. He wanted something more than just friendship with Bard, but he needed to know the feeling was mutual before taking the next step. He didn’t want to push Bard to be with him because Bard pitied him. Thranduil didn’t need anyone’s pity. He had admitted to himself that he had been stuck in an abusive relationship and he didn’t want to rush into something new just for the sake of it.

As he lounged on his bed, he was presented with a strong urge to text Bard and continue their flirtatious banter. Seeing the way he could affect Bard helped boost his confidence and make him feel a little more human.

Ever since Bard had mentioned that he had a motorcycle, Thranduil could not stop thinking about it. Bard looking all rugged, his hair disheveled as he rode his motorcycle was too tempting a thought for Thranduil to ignore.

He opened his messages and began typing.

[To: Bard] 10:01pm – Hey gorgeous. How’s your motorcycle? I bet all the girls and guys coming running when they see such an impressive piece of equipment between your legs ;)

God, was that too bold?

Whatever, Thranduil didn’t care.

He smirked, and pressed send.

 

***

It took longer than usual for Bard to get Tilda to bed, so once she was finally tucked in Bard headed for his room eager to hop in the shower and wind down for the night.  

Tomorrow he would spend the evening with Thranduil. He couldn’t wait. He had no idea what they were going to do together, or if Haldir would be there, but he figured any time spent with Thranduil would be enjoyable.

When Bard learned about Thranduil’s days of nude modeling, it became a challenge to get the image out of his head. The past few days were spent with those images clouding his thoughts, interrupting all his daily tasks. He thought about the words Thranduil had said to him last Sunday when he had taken Thranduil up to bed after he had too much to drink.

_I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you._

Those words were haunting Bard. He couldn’t shake them. And now it was even harder to think straight after last night when Thranduil had so brazenly flirted with him. Did Thranduil even know the effect he had on Bard?

Bard kept telling himself to think clean thoughts.

Hockey, cars, Grandma Edna’s upper lip hair….

Still, it was pointless. That beautiful blonde hair and those delicate hands kept wandering back into his thoughts.

It only made things worse when Bard decided to check his phone before going to shower.

Of course he could not ignore the message that was awaiting him. No one could ignore such a blatant attempt at flirtation. 

[From: Thran] 10:01pm – Hey gorgeous. How’s your motorcycle? I bet all the girls and guys coming running when they see such an impressive piece of equipment between your legs ;)

Bard’s jaw dropped when he read and reread the message. What was this beautiful man doing to him?! God, Thranduil was the master of double entendre, using it to strip Bard of any self-control he had left. Which, at this point, wasn’t very much.

Bard plopped himself down on the bed, the thought of showering having completely vanished. How was he going to reply to such a statement? Of course he was going to flirt back; he just needed to come up with the right thing to say…

[To: Thran] 10:31pm – Motorcycle is still in the garage, needs work. But the only one I’d want to come running is you. Then maybe you can have my impressive piece of equipment between your legs

[From: Thran] 10:31pm – Oh, you know I’d come for you, any time, any day.

[To: Thran] 10:31pm – I hope you do

Bard smirked, running his tongue over his bottom lip. He leaned back into the headboard and kept his eyes on his mobile.

[From: Thran] 10:32pm – Maybe I’ll come faster if you give me a ride

[To: Thran] 10:32pm – Short ride, long ride… anything you want, doll

[From: Thran] 10:33pm – I bet you could rev that engine so high it would make my whole body go numb

[To: Thran] 10:33pm – Yes just tell me when. I’m yours to command

Suddenly, it felt really hot in his bedroom. Was the thermostat turned up too high? Maybe it was just Thranduil causing the unexpected rise in Bard’s body temperature. Without thinking about it, Bard pulled his shirt off in one swift motion.

[From: Thran] 10:34pm – Oh, really?

[To: Thran] 10:34pm – Whatever you want, thran

[From: Thran] 10:35pm – I want to see if the hidden parts of you are as muscular and perfect as what I can already see…

[To: Thran] 10:35pm – You’ll have to wait and find out

Fuck, right now there was nothing Bard wanted more than to be right there beside Thranduil, so he could kiss him and touch him, thread his fingers through all that long hair. And those hands….god, Thranduil had the most perfect hands. Imagine how they would feel—no, Bard shouldn’t be thinking this.

[From: Thran] 10:35pm – It will be my pleasure

[To: Thran] 10:36pm – Mine, too

[From: Thran] 10:36pm – What’re you doing right now?

[To: Thran] 10:37pm – Thinking about you

[From: Thran] 10:37pm – What about me?

[To: Thran] 10:38pm – About your hands

Yes, those hands, so slender and delicate, exuding the perfect amount of elegance with the slightest gesture. Bard wanted to lace their fingers together. He wanted to press wet kisses on the inside of Thranduil’s wrist, working his way up his palm until he could take a long, beautiful finger into his mouth…

[From: Thran] 10:38pm – My hands?

[To: Thran] 10:39pm – Yes. Ever since I first saw you I thought you had the most beautiful hands….an artist’s hands. I bet you can evoke a lot of emotion with just your hands

[From: Thran] 10:39pm – Ah yes I can evoke a lot of pleasure with these hands. Just imagine what I could do to that gorgeous body of yours ;)

Shit. Of course Thranduil would say that. Bard should’ve known.

[To: Thran] 10:40pm – Mmm yes

[From: Thran] 10:40pm – I could tease you and tempt you until you melt under my touch

[To: Thran] 10:41pm – god, you’re a bastard

[From: Thran] 10:41pm – You like me this way, don’t you?

Bard sunk down lower on the headboard, breathing heavily. He let his hand gingerly trail down to his groin. He hadn’t even realized how hard he was until now. His cock was straining beneath the fabric of his jeans. He popped open the button, barely aware of what he was doing, his eyes fixed upon the small screen of his mobile.

[To: Thran] 10:42pm – Mmm I do

[From: Thran] 10:42pm – Are you getting all hot and bothered?

He managed to haul his pants down far enough that his underwear were now exposed. His hand rested upon his hard cock, not rubbing, just squeezing gently. Was he really going to do this? When was the last time he touched himself? He could barely remember. Madison disliked when he’d touch himself; she always said it was such a dirty, selfish act. But it wasn’t like she ever did it for him.

[To: Thran] 10:44pm – What makes yu think im getting hot ans

[To: Thran] 10:44pm – botherd

[From: Thran] 10:45pm – Well you did just call me a bastard and you took extra long to reply. Are you thinking about how good my hands will feel all over your body?

[To: Thran] 10:46pm – Kinda imposibl not to think of tthat youre so beautiful

Slowly Bard began moving his hand, palming at his cock through the thin cloth of his underwear. How amazing would if feel if Thranduil was the one touching him like this? He moved his hand faster, but then stopped. Carefully, he pulled his underwear down and out of the way, finally grasping the thickness of his cock in his hand. Thranduil’s hand…that’s all he wanted right now. Those perfect hands stroking him until he lost all control.

[From: Thran] 10:46pm – Spelling mistakes galore, lol. Are you jerking off?

[To: Thran] 10:47pm – Maybe…maybenot

[From: Thran] 10:47pm – Wait til you see how good it feels when I put my hands on your cock

Bard grasped his cock harder, pretending his hand was Thranduil’s, getting lost in the thought of just how perfect it would feel.

[To: Thran] 10:48pm – Youre not a doll, youre abastard

[From: Thran] 10:49pm – But if I’m your doll, then you can brush my hair and dress me….or undress me…and play with me however you like

What the hell! Did Thranduil even realize the affect his seductive words were having on Bard right now, how easily he got a rise out of him – a rise out of his cock? He pictured how beautiful Thranduil’s body would be, how he would writhe beneath him as Bard slowly stripped him of each article of clothing until he was bare, begging for Bard to touch him.

[To: Thran] 10:51pm – Mmmm I want o play with yu

[From: Thran] 10:51pm – I want to play with your cock. I bet it’s so big I’ll need two hands just to get you off and maybe my mouth

Bard gasped an uneven, shaky breath. God, he wanted Thranduil so bad. He was now thrusting his hips, his cock pumping between his thumb and index finger. He thought about Thranduil’s elegant fingers touching him, such soft hands stroking his cock, teasing him with such skill. Only an artist would be able to use their hands with such mastery, only an artist would be able to bring Bard to such a state of euphoria. Bard kept his hand on his cock while typing out his reply.

[To: Thran] 10:53pm – Fuck thran, thats too much to think about

[From: Thran] 10:53pm – Then take your hand, put it on your cock and pretend it’s my hand

[From: Thran] 10:54pm – Pretend I’m there…undoing your pants, pulling out your cock, wrapping my hand around it and stroking slowly. Do it. For me

[To: Thran] 10:54pm – Mmmmm

[From: Thran] 10:55pm – Yes good. go slow. Look at me, keep your eyes on me. I want to watch you come undone, I want to see how good it feels.

Just as Thranduil urged, he slowed his strokes, imagining how it would feel if he were looking deeply into Thranduil’s eyes as Thranduil bestowed such pleasure upon him, how he would get so lost in the bliss…how he would completely let himself go. He would give up all control, letting Thranduil do whatever he pleased.

[To: Thran] 10:56pm – Yeaa those beautifukl blur eyes and those perfct hands

[From: Thran] 10:57pm – Go faster now, just like I would.

[From: Thran] 10:57pm – I want to see you come, baby

[From: Thran] 10:57pm – Come for me

Holy shit. Thranduil’s dirty talk made Bard melt, made him so hot-- so hot that he had dropped his phone on his chest. Dirty talk had always been one of his biggest turn-ons, something he had never admitted to anyone. And here Thranduil was doing it without Bard even having to ask. He rubbed his cock faster, just as Thranduil asked him to, fumbling to pick his phone back up with the other hand so he could type out a reply with his thumb.

[To: Thran] 10:58pm – Fuck ys, so fucjin good

[From: Thran] 10:59pm – Don’t stop

[To: Thran] 11:00pm – Mmmmmmmnnmmm

[From: Thran] 11:00pm – Think about how good it feels with my hand around your cock…how good it will feel when I can finally do it for you myself. I want to pump your cock until I’m milking the orgasm from you.

The phone found its way on the bed somewhere beside Bard. His now free hand went to cup his balls as his other hand sped up and he thrust his hips upward. Thranduil’s hands would feel like divine perfection, Thranduil’s hands would give him the most ecstatic orgasm of his life. He had slid from the headboard, now lying flat on his back, hand pumping his cock until he could see only stars behind his closed eyelids. And when he thought of the way it would feel to slip his cock deep inside Thranduil’s body, he could no longer hold on. His release washed over him like a tidal wave, crashing around him, blinding him. His stomach tightened, toes curled, heart hammered wildly in his chest. When was the last time he remembered feeling so good? When was the last time another person could make him feel this way?

 [To: Thran] 11:03pm – mmm youre amazing

[From: Thran] 11:03pm – did you finish? Was it good?

[To: Thran] 11:04pm – Good doesn’t even begin to describe it

[From: Thran] 11:04pm – I hope I can live up to your fantasies

[To: Thran] 11:05pm – You will surpass my fantasies

[From: Thran] 11:05pm – I hope so. It’s getting late now, so I’ll let you go to bed.

[To: Thran] 11:06pm – okay, doll. Have a wonderful sleep <3

[From: Thran] 11:06pm – Thanks, love. Nighty night, sweet dreams and see you tomorrow ;) <3

[To: Thran] 11:07pm – can’t wait. Night xox

[From: Thran] 11:07pm – night <3

Bard exhaled heavily. Thranduil was reawakening something within him; something he hadn’t even realized was dormant.

For so long, Bard hadn’t looked at himself as a sexual being, but now, as he wiped his release from his chest, he came to see that that was no longer true. He had been suppressing his urges and desires for so long he had forgotten what it felt like to act upon them.

 

***

Thranduil uncoiled himself from around the blanket, setting his phone next to him on the bed. The slack-jawed expression had still not left his face, even minutes after he had finished his text conversation with Bard. He was still breathing heavier than usual, a strange tension causing his neck muscles to ache.

God, did Bard really just touch himself while thinking about Thranduil? Did Thranduil really have the power to draw such emotions from Bard? As he spread himself out on the bed, he imagined how Bard touched himself. Slowly, almost tenderly at first, teasing himself the way Thranduil would have, and only allowing himself to pick up the pace once Thranduil had urged him to. Thranduil badly wanted to touch Bard himself. He wanted to slink his hand beneath Bard’s pants, wrapping his hand tightly around that big cock. He visualized what it would look like, just as muscular and perfect as the rest of Bard.

Thranduil bit his lip as he thought about what it would feel like if Bard touched him. Such big, strong, rugged hands tuning his body like a machine, making him purr. He could easily get lost in Bard’s touch, let himself receive pleasure without fear or shame. With Bard he could be himself, he could unleash all his innermost desires. God, he wanted Bard so bad. He wanted their mouths all over each other, hands tearing at each other’s clothes, stripping each other until they were completely naked. He would push Bard onto the bed, hovering above him like a seductress, entrancing and enticing Bard until he reached up and pulled Thranduil atop him. The feeling of their bare skin coming into contact for the first time would send shivers up and down his spine, make his knees weak. Kisses and nibbles would leave their skin wet and hot, and when Bard stopped to catch his breath, Thranduil would sink down lower, enveloping Bard’s cock in his mouth. Hearing Bard’s cries of pleasure would only urge him on, only heighten his own arousal until he begged Bard to touch him…

Thranduil wasn’t aware of when it happened, or how, but somehow he ended up with a hand around his cock, stroking himself languidly. What was he doing? His own touch was a shock at first, guilt creeping into his thoughts. But just as quickly as the guilt appeared, so too did it disappear. Right now he wanted to give his undivided attention to Bard, and to himself. He deserved to feel good.

After all, had it not been Thranduil who had awakened such carnality in Bard, driving the gorgeous man to his much-needed release? It turned Thranduil on to know how turned on Bard was. It turned him on to know how much Bard wanted him, that he was desirable. How long had it been since he last felt like anyone truly desired him? And how long had it been since he actually desired another person? He couldn’t remember the last time someone evoked such a response in him, but it felt good. So he wasn’t going to fight that feeling.

Bard wanted him, and he wanted Bard.

His eyes remained closed. He barely registered the way his hand was stroking the length of his cock, back and forth, over and over; each stroke bringing forth a little more confidence. He thought of Bard’s mouth around him, he thought of the immense pleasure he would feel when Bard inched that thick cock inside his body. God, his hand moved faster, more frantically; his climax was so close, ready to pull him under. His body spasmed violently as he came, feelings of elation clouding his vision.

 As he calmed from his release, his breath hitched – he hadn’t thought of Galion at all.

He was healing.

And it was all because of Bard.

 

***

Friday morning came all too quickly. Thranduil woke with feelings of anticipation. He could not wait to see Bard tonight.

The morning went by as usual. Haldir took Legolas to the bus stop and told Thranduil that he was not going to go into work today. He said he would do his work from the house.

This frustrated Thranduil to no end. He wanted to have time alone to mentally prepare himself for when Bard arrived tonight. What was he going to say? What was he going to do? And how the hell was he going to get rid of Haldir? And what would Legolas think of all this?

Still feeling tired, Thranduil went back up stairs to nap. Mostly, he just wanted to escape Haldir.

Once he was shrouded in blankets, sleep took him quickly.

 

Darkness, darkness, darkness.

And then, blinding light.

It came on with such ferocity, choking him, leaving his body numb.

Sirens echoed in the distance, closer and closer they came until the sound became deafening.

His body was floating, and then he was being pulled, dragged, hauled onto hard cement.

There was no feeling, no emotion. He was touched and prodded, hair pulled harshly out of his eyes.

And there was red. Blood everywhere, surrounding him like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night.

Where was she?

The rhythmic melody of his heart was the only thing letting him know he was still alive.

And then everything went black. He was being pulled into another dimension. He tried to move his legs, willed himself to open his eyes. But it was no use. He was blind. He was deaf. And he was helpless.

Within what felt like a fraction of a second, he was stripped of his clothes, his face smashed into a cold, wet surface. Something was in his mouth; it tasted like leather. And then his head was pulled back with such strength he thought he would be beheaded in the process.

Hands wound around his waist. Monstrous, inhuman hands digging into his flesh, jerking his hips back and up… And then he felt it.

Tearing. Blood trickling down his thighs.

Pain. Pain. Pain.

“You’re nothing but a whore. My whore.” The words vibrated through him, deafened him to all else. It was the only truth.

He begged, he screamed, he cried out. All to no avail.

_No. Don’t. Stop. Stop. Don’t. Get off. No. Don’t touch me. Fucking stop!_

“Rapist!”

The weight seemed to lift and he could breathe again. But he did not breathe. He cried, clutching whatever was in front of him.

Blankets. They were wet, soaked with sweat.

His body trembled, ice cold, frozen to the bone, gasping for air.

He opened his eyes. He was in bed, his bed…wasn’t he? His vision was blurry, the pillows stained in tears, his clothes drenched in sweat.

His stomach knotted, forcing him out of bed and into the bathroom. He was going to throw up. There was no stopping it.

He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, slung his head over it and purged. Tears stung his cheeks. Acid stung his throat.

Utterly ruined. He still felt those monstrous hands grasping at him, gripping his hips and pulling him backwards.

After he had emptied his stomach, he swatted at the imaginary hands.

“Go away. Leave me alone.” He graveled. His voice sounded foreign, more shadow than anything else.

His ears were ringing, his eyes burned and there was nothing he could do to soothe himself. He had tried wrapping his arms around himself. He tried to visualize himself pushing his emotions down; as if they were tangible and he could manipulate them to his own will.

He clenched a fist around his fear and forced it into the recesses of his mind. He grasped harshly at his shame and pushed it down until he could no longer feel it. He would be safe once he was without these feelings. One could not survive trying to battle these grievous emotions. They were enough to disable even the strongest warrior.

Push it all down. Feel nothing.

A noise from behind roused him. He turned – still kneeling – to see what had made the sound.

“Thran? Are you okay?” Haldir was clutching the doorjamb, hanging on as if he’d just run around the corner at full speed. His brows knit together in distress when he got a look at Thranduil on the floor.

A grumble rose up from his chest, but he had no words to offer.

“I heard you getting sick in here. And it sounded like you were talking…”

“F– I’m – it’s fine.” He mumbled, eyes fixed upon the grooves in the floor tiles.

The light went on suddenly. Blinding light.

He flinched, clutching his arms around his waist.

“No. H-Haldir. Light. No.”

“Thran, I’m worried about you. Do you want some water? What can I do?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Thranduil faltered, coughing up over the toilet again.

“You are not fine.” Haldir rushed over to his side, pulling his hair back. “All sprawled out on the floor, worshipping the porcelain goddess! Here, let me help you.”

“No!” Thranduil growled, batting Haldir’s hands away from his hair. “Go back down stairs. I’m fine!”

“Really? You want me to go down stairs?”

“Yeah,” Thranduil shouted as he stood up and extracted himself from Haldir’s hold. Haldir back away, hands up in the air. “Go, then! Just fucking go back downstairs…clean, cook, make fucking cupcakes, do everything better than I ever could! Be a better father to Legolas than I am. It’s not hard, is it? Who needs me around here anyway?”

“Seriously, Thran? I’m not up for your little pity party. Are you finished now?”

“I’ve barely begun! You’re fucking smothering me, Haldir. I’m sick of acting like this robot, tiptoeing around you all the time, worried about getting in your way! Well, fuck. It’s my house and you’re in my way! I don’t want your help; I don’t need to be taken care of. I haven’t all of a sudden regressed to the mental age of a ten year old. I am not disabled. I can survive without you following me around and doing everything for me!”

“I’m putting my own life on hold to be here for you because I care about you. So don’t you dare give me lip!”

“Just…fuck you!” Thranduil spat.

“Thanks, but no. You’re not my type, Thran.”

“I’m no one’s type! I’m disgusting.”

“Oh, stop it! The pity party has ended! Just stop!”

“No, it’s the fucking truth! I’m just a whore.” Thranduil yelled, stomping out of the room and into the closet with Haldir following him.

“Where ar--”

Thranduil grasped one of the garbage bags that held Galion’s clothes. “And this fucking shit is a reminder of my weakness!” With that, he threw the bag half way across the room. He picked up the other bag and swung it hard against the wall.

“Thranduil! Stop!”

“No! You stop! I’m sick of feeling like shit! I can still feel his fucking hands all over me and I just want it to end! I want to scrub my skin off.”

Haldir took a deep breath, crossing his arms before speaking. “Thran, I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to make things worse, I don’t want to offend you…”

“That’s exactly it! You treat me like some kind of victim—” He held up a hand to stop Haldir from interrupting. “No, don’t say, ‘oh, but Thran, you are a victim,” Thranduil snorted, “It makes me cringe. Whatever, he raped me, so fucking what? I deserved it, right?”

“You did not deserve it, you fucking ass! I’m going to slap you if you keep talking like this! I have no idea what to say!”

“Go ahead, Hal. Slap me. I’ll enjoy it!” Thranduil exclaimed, breathing heavily.

“Ugh,” Haldir sighed, clutching the sides of his head. “You’re impossible.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“What? So you can wallow? No, I’m not that kind of person. I care too much. So yell at me all you want, I’ll still be here for you at the end of the day.” Haldir put his hands on his hips and stood directly in front of Thranduil.

“Well maybe you should care less.” Thranduil walked past Haldir. He threw himself down on the bed, trying to catch his breath.

“Well, Bard cares about you and I don’t see you snapping at him.”

“Yeah, because he treats me like a human being and not like an invalid.” Thranduil commented, less heat in his voice now that he was lying down. He truly did not want to argue with Haldir, he just wanted to be alone so he could calm himself down.

“And because you love him.”

“What?”

“You’re in love with him, Thran. And I’m glad.”

“Go away, Haldir. You know nothing.”

“Do you want me to just go to my place tonight then? Is that what you want? I will go but you know I’ll worry about you.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not going to hang myself from the banister or overdose on painkillers, and besides…Bard will be here, so—”

“Ohhh,” Haldir cut Thranduil off. “Now I understand!”

“No, you don’t.”

“I can take Legs with me for the night. Do you want that? You can have the night alone with Bard. I’ll do that for you because I’m a good friend and even though I may be smothering you, I care about you and I just want you to be okay.”

Thranduil sighed, inhaling deeply. He couldn’t stay mad at Haldir. He knew that Haldir cared about him and he meant well. So, after a few meditative breaths, Thranduil closed his eyes and spoke.

“Fuck. Hal, I’m sorry I’m in such a foul mood. I had a terrible nightmare and it just felt so real—”

“It’s okay, Thran. But you know I’m not going to take your bullshit.”

“I know. And I don’t expect you to.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t no thing but a chicken wing.” Haldir waved a hand. “I’m sorry if I’m getting in your way. I was only trying to help. I hope you know that. I’m not trying to make you feel useless. And I could never be a better father to Legolas than you are. Pft. Don’t even think such a thing!”

Thranduil sighed, wiping stray tears from his cheeks. “But sometimes—”

“No, Thran. Stop this, please. That little boy loves you to death. You’re his entire world, so I don’t want to hear you talking shit about yourself. Understood?”

Thranduil groaned.

“I said, understood?”

“Yes, yes. Understood.”

“Now what time is Bard coming over?”

“What time is it now?”

“It’s almost four.”

“Fuck,” Thranduil mumbled. “He’s coming after work.”

“I’ll go get Legolas from the bus stop and I’ll let him know that he’s going to come over to my house tonight for a sleepover and you can get yourself cleaned up and do whatever you need to do before Bard gets here.”

“Okay.”

Haldir gave Thranduil a hug before leaving the room, apologizing once again. Thranduil stayed on his bed for a few long minutes, mulling over his actions and pondering what would happen when Bard arrived.

The day had started out bad, but he would not let it end that way.

He took a deep breath and headed for the shower.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what will happen when Bard comes over?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard and Thranduil spend some time together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!
> 
> So sorry, I took a small break from writing this for a bit. (Although it's still constantly being written in my head....at every waking moment! lol)
> 
> Thank you to my Weird Sister, EldritchMage, for being Bard for me so many times! <3

There was nothing like a little tension with Haldir to put Thranduil in the mood to see Bard.

Although he and Haldir had made up relatively quickly, the fact that he had yelled at Haldir in the first place didn’t sit well with him. His friend was only trying to help. Yes, Haldir made Thranduil feel useless and his frantic behavior stressed Thranduil out beyond belief, but it was out of love. Thranduil tried to remind himself of that once Haldir returned from the bus stop with Legolas.

Thranduil had still not showered or started to get ready. He sat on the couch waiting to see his son. He hoped Legolas would be happy about going to Haldir’s house for the night. Thranduil didn’t want him to feel like he was being brushed aside, and he definitely didn’t want him to feel as though Bard was more important than him. Because that was so far from the truth. So as soon as Legolas rounded the corner, Thranduil embraced him in a tight hug and pressed a gentle kiss atop his head.

“Hey sweet leaf. How was school today?” Thranduil asked, brushing a hand through his son’s hair.

“Same as usual, Ada. But the holidays are soon coming!”

“Oh yes, that’s right. Your vacation starts when, on the twenty first?” Thranduil pulled Legolas onto his lap.

“Yup! Only one more week of school!” Legolas enthused.

“Yes. Are you excited?”

“Yes. Christmas is so soon. I can’t wait.”

Thranduil kissed Legolas on the cheek and let him slide off his lap. Legolas bounded around the room, grabbing his bag and swinging it around. Thranduil smiled at his son’s enthusiasm. He hadn’t even started Christmas shopping yet. That was something that needed to get done within the next week.

“Leaf, come here. I need to tell you something.” Thranduil beckoned, gesturing for his son to come closer.

“Yes, Ada? What’s wrong?” Legolas dropped his bag and stopped in front of Thranduil, resting his small hands upon Thranduil’s knees.

“Nothing is wrong. I just want to know if you’re okay with staying at Uncle Haldir’s house tonight?”

“Yeah, he already told me.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course. I like staying at Uncle Haldir’s. He lets me stay up late and we make pillow forts and eat ice cream and watch movies.”

“Okay. Good.”

Legolas sobered, a look of worry crossing his face. “He’s not coming back is he, Ada?”

“He? No, no, no. Legolas, look at me.” Thranduil cupped his son’s chin as he peered into his eyes. “He is never coming back. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

Thranduil hated that Legolas was so worried about him, hated how much of a toll all of this was taking on his precious leaf. A rush of guilt overtook him, leaving his stomach in knots.

“But you’re going to be alone.”

“No, I won’t be alone,” Thranduil assured, “You remember my friend, Bard?”

Legolas nodded. “Yeah, the man who was here the other day… after he—”

“Yes,” Thranduil said, stopping Legolas from having to finish his sentence. “Well, he is coming over to see me. So I won’t be alone.”

“Oh. He is nice, right?”

“Yes. He is nice.”

“He’s not going to be mean to you, is he?”

“No, Legs. He would never be mean to me. He is very kind.”

Thranduil smiled ruefully at his son, hoping his words could give him some form of reassurance. It was not fair for his son to live in fear because of Thranduil’s mistake. Legolas should be able to have fun and be carefree without worrying about his father’s safety.

“Okay.” Legolas brushed the back of his hand over Thranduil’s cheek and kissed him on the nose. “I’ll have fun tonight, Ada, and so will you.”

“Yes, that’s the attitude I like to see. We will have a good night. Just don’t eat too much ice cream.”

“I won’t.”

“You can take some of the cupcakes with you if you want. If you leave them here I might just eat them all.”

“No, Ada. You’ll get fat!”

“Will you still love me when I get fat?” Thranduil tickled Legolas, causing the boy to squirm and bat at Thranduil’s hands.

“Yes!” Legolas giggled, worming out of Thranduil’s reach.

“Good, now go get your stuff packed for your sleepover, alright?”

“Yes, Ada.” Legolas ran out of the room, laughing.

Haldir stayed in the kitchen, munching on a few crackers as Legolas got his things packed. Thranduil stood in the doorway, hesitant about approaching him, unsure if Haldir would still be upset with him. He knew his friend could hold a grudge, though Thranduil didn’t believe he would ever hold a grudge against him. Haldir wasn’t the type to stay silent; he would speak his mind to Thranduil, without a filter. But Thranduil still worried that he had been too harsh towards Haldir. So he padded into the kitchen, taking tentative steps towards Haldir, who was stuffing cheese into his mouth.

“Mmm. This kind is fab.” Haldir moaned around his bite of cheese.

“That aged cheddar is one of my favourites.” Thranduil commented, playing with the hem of his sweater.

“So…” Haldir looked at him with inquiring eyes.

“So what?”

“So, what do you and Bard have planned for the night?”

Thranduil shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

“Thran! You know what I mean,” Haldir said, smirking.

“What?” Thranduil’s brow furrowed. “No! Don’t even go there, Hal. I’m not going to sleep with him.”

“I’m not saying anything. You can ride his cock if you feel like it. Ain’t no thing.” Haldir waved a hand.

Thranduil’s jaw dropped.

“Close your mouth, Thran, or flies will go in.”

“You’re too much, Hal. I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

“I may have said it, but I’m not the only one thinking it.”

“I’m pretty sure you are.”

“Nah, you’re thinking about it, too. So go shower and get on your fancy underwear.”

Thranduil shook his head. How could Haldir be so vulgar yet act so blasé about it all, as if what he said was nothing more shocking than speaking about the news or the weather?

Without further thought, Thranduil headed for the stairs and ran into Legolas who was halfway down with a big overnight bag.

“I’m ready to go, Ada.” He announced, smiling proudly.

“Good job, leaf. You got everything you need? Toothbrush, toothpaste, underwear, socks?”

“Yes, yes. I’ve got everything,” Legolas said.

Thranduil hugged him when he reached the bottom step, brushing stray hairs out of his face. Haldir appeared around the corner with his and Legolas’s coat slung over his arm.

“All set, Leggles?”

“Yup!” Legolas chimed, taking his coat from Haldir and letting Thranduil help him into it. “Can we make hot chocolate tonight, Uncle Hal?”

“Mmm, yes! Hot chocolate would be divine! Let’s go and leave Ada to get himself ready.”

Once Legolas was bundled up in his hat and mitts, Thranduil kissed him on the cheek. Legolas thundered out of the door with Haldir following slowly behind.

“Have a good time with your lover, Thran!” Haldir winked. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“I won’t. Don’t let Legolas have too many sweets.” Thranduil warned, waving at his son from the door.

“I’ve got it under control,” Haldir smiled. “See ya! Have fun.”

“You, too. Bye.”

“Bye, Ada! See you later!”

“Bye Leaf, be good for Uncle Hal!”

Thranduil bolted up the stairs once Haldir’s car pulled out of the driveway.

He ditched his clothes as soon as he entered the room, throwing them into the hamper. He let his hair down from the bun he had it in, threading his fingers through it while he grabbed a towel from the cabinet. He set the towel on the floor, pulled his brush through his hair once and opened the shower door.

_Whore, whore, whore. Don’t ever think you can escape me. You are mine, my property._

The callous words filled his thoughts, throwing him off balance. God! For a second his vision greyed and all he could see was the image of Galion shoving him face down into the ground.

No. Not tonight. Galion wasn’t going to have power over him anymore. He sat on the toilet seat and took a few steadying breaths, reminding himself that everything was okay, he was safe and he had Bard.

He stood, looked himself over in the mirror and exhaled a sharp breath. Fuck Galion. Thranduil was fine. Everything was fine.

He washed his hair quickly but thoroughly, scrubbing his caviar shampoo into his scalp carefully. He didn’t want to aggravate his stitches, so he took extra care to keep the suds away from that area. Once the conditioner was in his hair, he washed his body, savouring the feeling of the hot water raining down upon him. He rinsed out the conditioner, wrung out his hair and stepped out of the shower to dry off.

He grabbed the bags of Galion’s things and shoved them into the depths of his closet. Then he perused his clothes for something suitable to wear for his evening with Bard. Thranduil didn’t plan on wearing anything too fancy or over the top. He wanted to dress casual and comfortable. He chose a pair of soft black jeans – tight jeans, something to accentuate the length of his legs and the curve of his ass. Then, he grabbed a heather grey Henley. The clothes were set onto the foot of the bed while he dug through his drawers for a pair of underwear and socks.

He kept himself occupied with thoughts of what he and Bard would do tonight until the images of Galion were no longer at the forefront of his mind.  They would have a nice dinner, maybe dessert, share a bottle of wine – did Bard prefer red or white? Afterwards, they would sit and talk, really get to know each other. Thranduil wanted to learn more about Bard. And maybe kiss him. Yes, definitely kiss him.  

Thranduil grabbed a pair of socks and tossed them onto the bed. He snorted when he recalled Haldir telling him to put on his fancy underwear. As much as he didn’t want to take Haldir’s advice, he also did not dismiss it. Over the years, Thranduil had built up quite a collection of what one would call ‘sexy’ underwear. He enjoyed wearing luxurious things such as silk and lace, never one to conform to society’s gender stereotypes. Thranduil always considered himself androgynous and he had no problem indulging in a little lacy lingerie. Would Bard appreciate his effort, or would he scoff at such a thing? Maybe it would turn Bard on? Was Bard even going to see him stripped down to just his underwear, or was that just Thranduil’s wishful thinking? It probably wouldn’t even get that far, but a part of him hoped it would.

So, ignoring his worries, he fished out a pair of black silk underwear with lacy details on the front. These were his favourite, despite the fact that he hardly ever worn them before. He never had the opportunity before now. Slowly, he slipped into them, enjoying the way they clung to his body like a second skin. He glanced at the mirror, a sly look on his face.

He had to admit; he looked extremely enticing in this particular pair of underwear. They were not very big; if he were to get aroused, the thin material of the underwear would likely not be able to contain his erection. Whatever. Bard would like them. He spun around in front of the mirror to check out his backside. He smirked in approval, smacking his ass cheek once and then spun back around to fetch his clothing from the bed.

Once his clothes were on, he dried his hair, added a little product, and began tidying up his room. Not knowing whether Bard would spend the night, Thranduil ended up changing the sheets anyway. He had sweat like crazy earlier when he had that nightmare and he didn’t want Bard to have to sleep on his dirty bed sheets.

With fresh sheets on the bed and the room in perfect order, Thranduil grabbed his mobile from the nightstand and headed out of his room and down the stairs.

Once he was on the main floor, he could not stop himself from pacing. Back and forth, around and around. Nothing could help calm his nerves now. Bard would be over shortly, and there was nothing Thranduil could do to prepare himself.

He found himself in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, scrolling through his text messages. Oh, the things he and Bard had said to each other last night! He still couldn’t believe some of the things he said, but he did not regret it. No, his words were the truth, exactly how he felt. But of course, texting had made him far bolder than he was in real life. If only it were that easy to be bold in person - the teasing he would do would be enough to make Bard lose all control. And just imagine how Bard would reward him for that…

A perverse smile crept onto his face; getting Bard to lose control would be reward enough.

Should he send Bard a message now to find out what time he would be on his way? Yes; he figured that was a smart idea. Knowing how much time he had before Bard would arrive would help him calm down. Or it would only cause him to become more frantic in anticipation...

What were they going to have for dinner tonight? Thranduil opened the fridge to see what he had inside, wondering if he should start cooking something now, or if he should wait so he and Bard could cook the meal together. He liked the idea of them cooking together, so he closed the fridge door. It would be better for them to cook together; it would give them something to do to help keep any awkwardness at bay.

Hopefully there wouldn’t be too much awkwardness, but Thranduil knew better. Of course it would be a little weird spending time with Bard in person after not seeing him for a week. The naughty text messages they exchanged would likely make things a little more awkward, but Thranduil tried not to think about that.

Regardless of all the shit he was currently going through, Thranduil still longed to be held by Bard, to feel those strong arms around him. How wonderful it would be to touch Bard and let Bard touch him back. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips just thinking about it. Would Bard treat him like a fragile thing, or touch him back with unapologetic enthusiasm? How would Thranduil respond to Bard’s touches? How would he respond if Bard kissed him?

Something fluttered in his chest when he thought about it, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. How could the mere idea of Bard’s hands on his body create such a reaction in him? This was such a foreign feeling, but he savoured it nonetheless. It wasn’t every day that he felt such a strong attraction to someone.

His fingers hovered over the touch screen as he thought about what he was going to type.

[To: Bard] 5:11pm – Hey, gorgeous. What time are you planning on coming?

Such a simple text but Thranduil chuckled at the implied sexual connotation as he hit send.

He would be sure to make Bard come at some point tonight.

 

***

 

Bard had completely forgotten; it was his mother’s text message that had reminded him. Imagine that, his mother, texting! He still couldn’t get over it.

The children were going to his parent’s house for the weekend. Yes, that was this weekend. They’d planned it a while ago, but it had slipped Bard’s mind with all that had been going on within the past few weeks.

So that evening when he got home from work, he reminded the children. Sigrid, of course, had remembered – she kept everything marked down on her calendar, Bain grunted an incoherent response and Tilda jumped up and down, always excited to see her Nan and Bampi.

The kids rushed to get their things packed. Sigrid made sure she had all her makeup packed, though Bard didn’t know why she would need it at her grandparents house, Bain packed his gaming console and a few games and Tilda found a couple of board games to take along with her.

“You’ve got enough clothes for tomorrow and Sunday? Toiletries, socks? Underwear?” Bard asked as the kids flew around the upper level of the house.

“Yes, Da,” they chorused.

“Okay, just checking.”

“We’re good, Da,” Sigrid affirmed. “No need to worry.”

“Got your homework with you? You have to make sure to get some done before Sunday.”

“I’ve only got a geography worksheet and a few math questions!” Tilda informed, stuffing another plush animal into her overnight bag.

“I have a geometry test on Tuesday and a paper due on Wednesday.” Bain said, collecting his toothbrush from the bathroom. “And an art project, but that’s easy.”

“Okay, try to get it all done tonight, please. What about you, Sig?”

“I’ve got an English essay due on Monday, but I’m almost done and then I just need to edit. I’m gonna take my laptop with me, so I’ll work on it tonight.”

“Good girl. Christmas vacation is next week so give it your best shot before you’re off—”

“Yes, Da,” they said in unison.

Finally they had everything packed and Bard stopped hovering, following along down stairs behind the children.

While they were waiting to be picked up, Bard wondered absently if he should tell the kids what his plans were for tonight. How would they take it if he told them he was going to see Thranduil again? Sigrid would likely be fine with it, maybe even a little enthusiastic, Tilda probably would have no strong opinion about it, but Bain…he would not take it well. So, to keep everyone in a good mood, Bard said nothing about his plans.

By six o’clock, Bard’s mother pulled into the driveway. She honked the horn and waved when Bard opened the door to let the children out. Tilda bounded down the steps running into her Nan’s arms, all smiles. Sigrid and Bain both hugged her as well before they proceeded to get into her car, waving goodbye to Bard. He was happy they would be spending the weekend with his parents. It always brought them such joy whenever they spent time with their grandparents and being away from home would be a good distraction for them now, especially after having to deal with the news of their mother moving away.

Bard waved from the doorstep, his mother blowing kisses to him before she got into the car and pulled out of the driveway.

With the children out of the house, Bard found himself upstairs in his bedroom staring blankly into his closet. What was he going to wear? He’d worn all his nice clothes already on previous dates with Thranduil. He figured he didn’t have to dress to impress anymore; jeans and a t-shirt would be good enough. He didn’t imagine Thranduil would care what he was wearing. So he fetched his favourite pair of worn denim jeans and a plain white t-shirt from the closet and chucked them onto the bed. He had to shower and wash his hair.

Before he did that though, he fished his mobile from his pocket. He needed to text Thranduil to let him know when he would be over. He found a message already waiting for him, sent almost an hour ago. Damnit, the house had been so hectic trying to get the kids ready that he hadn’t noticed Thranduil’s message. He smiled at the text and quickly typed out a reply.

[To: Thran] 6:04pm – So sorry, doll! Had to get kids ready. I should be over by 7…is that ok with you?

He didn’t want to get in the shower until he heard back from Thranduil, so he sat on his bed to wait for a reply. Luckily, it came within seconds.

[From: Thran] 6:05pm – It’s okay. And 7 is perfect. Should I make dinner or would you like us to cook together?

[To: Thran] 6:06pm – Maybe make something together. I’m sure you could teach me a few things, lol. Gonna shower now. Be over soon <3

[From: Thran] 6:07pm – okay, sounds good. See you soon. <3 :)

With that, Bard left his mobile on the bed and hurried into the bathroom to shower and get ready. Once he was washed and shaved, he brushed his teeth and headed back into his room to get dressed.

He put on a pair of black underwear and then got into his clothes. Warm black socks went on his feet before he retreived his mobile from the bed. He looked over himself once in the mirror. Despite brushing his hair several times, he still thought it looked atrocious.

“Ach y fi,” he groaned, running his hands through his hair. There was nothing more he could do to get his unruly waves to cooperate, so he spritzed on a bit of cologne and padded down the stairs.

At least he would smell nice.

 

***

 

Thranduil swallowed hard. He paced and paced. At this rate he would exhaust himself before Bard even arrived. He cracked his knuckles, combed fingers through the ends of his hair, and looked at himself in the mirror. The thudding of his heart continued.

His mobile read six-forty seven. Bard should be here soon.

He needed a drink. Or a cigarette.

Throughout the week Thranduil had tried not to indulge in too many cigarettes; he didn’t want that habit to return. The cigarettes were merely there for emergency situations. A security net, something to lean back on when he couldn’t hold himself together.

He slipped on his coat and boots, wound a scarf around his neck and stepped out onto the front porch. The air was cold, but thankfully there was no breeze. He slouched down onto the step, glad that it was dry enough to sit on. He fished out a cigarette, lit it and inhaled deeply.

What was going to happen when Bard arrived? Different scenarios played out in his head, always coming to a negative conclusion. Bard would see the real him and want to get away as fast as possible. Bard would tell him he couldn’t spend time with someone who had so much baggage. Bard would tell him he had better things to do than waste his time with such a damaged person.

Thranduil groaned. Why was he doing this to himself? Had Bard not proven how much he cared about Thranduil? Had he not been there for Thranduil when he needed him most? Bard was coming over because he wanted to, not because he had to, not because Thranduil was forcing him to.

He kept reminding himself of that while he finished off his cigarette. By the time he had stubbed it out, he immediately wanted another. Why the hell not?

In the middle of his second smoke, the headlights of a familiar car approached around the corner. Thranduil’s heart fluttered. Was that Bard? It had to be him.

When the car pulled into the driveway, Thranduil smiled. When Bard got out of the car and smiled back, Thranduil smiled wider. He waved to Bard and put out his cigarette.

Once Bard got close enough, Thranduil stood from the step to greet him. God, Bard looked absolutely gorgeous. It was as if some unknown force pulled the two of them together, like opposite ends of a magnet – an inevitable attraction.

Bard grinned at him and opened his arms. Thranduil practically fell into Bard’s embrace, savoring the warmth of Bard’s cheek against his. It was wonderful to see Bard again, wonderful to be able to feel those strong, secure arms around him. Bard held him so gently, with such care and compassion.

“Hey, beautiful doll.”

“Hi.” Thranduil smiled into Bard’s neck.

“It’s good to see you.” The heat of Bard’s breath caressed Thranduil’s hair.

“I missed you.” Thranduil said, unable to stop the words from escaping his lips.

Bard hummed, a low, rumbling sound. “I missed you, too.” A kiss was pressed on the side of Thranduil’s head, causing his chest to tighten and his breath to catch. “You look stunning. So beautiful.”

They let go of each other, Bard eyeing Thranduil, up and down, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Thranduil grinned back. “Thanks. You look quite gorgeous yourself. Why don’t we go inside out of the cold?”

“Sounds good to me,” Bard nodded, following Thranduil up the steps and into the house.

They took off their boots and hung their coats up in the closet. Bard’s eyes widened, glancing around as if searching for something. Thranduil smiled, knowing what he was looking for.

“Haldir took Legolas to his place. We’re alone.”

“Oh, okay. Good.” Bard cracked a smile. “So how are you doing, doll?”

“I’m alright.” Thranduil replied plainly. He didn’t want to go into detail about his feelings, or the outburst he had earlier, or the words he exchanged with Haldir. “How’s your day been? Work was good, yeah?”

“Work was work. I’m glad it’s over for the week. Now I get to see your beautiful face.”

“Oh, lucky you,” Thranduil chuckled.

“Lucky me is right.”

“You want to come into the kitchen? We can make dinner if you want…”

“Yeah, I’m starving. But there is something you need to know.”

“What?” Thranduil asked as he led Bard through the living room and into the kitchen. He turned around once they reached the kitchen so he could give Bard his full attention.

“I’m an awful cook. Only recently have I actually started cooking for the children.”

“Ah, your ex-wife did all the cooking then?”

“Yes, I’m ashamed to say. I don’t really know my way around the kitchen, but I’m trying. I’m quickly running out of meal ideas, and we can’t have sloppy joes every night, or TV dinners.”

Thranduil made a face. “Not the dreaded TV dinners. If you like, I could give you some recipes so you can add a little more variety to your meals.”

“Thanks, doll. That would be great. I can use all the help I can get.”

“We could make chicken tonight if you’d like. Chicken is a staple; there is so much you can do with it. And it’s very simple, too.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Let’s make chicken.”

“Okay,” Thranduil said, nodding. He opened the fridge door and pulled out a package of boneless skinless chicken breasts. “You can do a lot with these.”

“What just like…fry them or bake them?”

“Either, or. We are going to bake them tonight. Not so much grease and fat.”

“Okay. Baked is good.”

“What would you like with the chicken? Salad, potatoes, vegetables?” He asked while washing his hands in the sink.

Bard pondered for a moment.

“We could do all three, if you’d like,” Thranduil suggested.

“What would you do?”

“Well, I’ve got a salad, and I have little potatoes that we could roast in the oven…”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Bard agreed, leaning his elbows onto the counter so he could watch Thranduil as he pulled out a pan and lined it with foil.

Thranduil took out a cutting board, opened the package of chicken and placed the pieces onto the board. “See this nastiness?” He said, pointing to the tendons in the chicken with a knife. Bard nodded. “Well, I am meticulous and I do not like to eat that, so I’m going to cut it out.”

Bard watched how Thranduil removed the parts of the chicken he deemed inedible. “I never cut that out before. I’m always in such a rush to get to food on the table for the kids. They are ravenous monsters.”

Thranduil smiled. “Yes, they are like bottomless pits. You don’t have to remove it though. I just enjoy stabbing the chicken.”

Bard chuckled.

“Because I’m evil,” Thranduil laughed.

The chicken was put into the pan, covered with melted garlic butter and a few seasonings before Thranduil put it into the oven and set the timer.

“And that’s it?” Bard asked.

“Yup, that’s it. Easy peasy. Now we do the potatoes.”

Thranduil got Bard to cut the potatoes in half and spread them onto a backing tray. They added seasoning and put the tray into the oven along with the chicken.

“We can check them every few minutes and shuffle them around so they get colour on all sides, then all we have to do is get the salad ready, but that only takes a few seconds since I have a premade salad. I just add some feta and dressing and we’re good to go. We can do that once the chicken and potatoes are done.”

“Sounds good,” Bard said. He leaned against the counter drawing a smirk from Thranduil. God, the man looked absolutely delicious with his toned forearms on display. Thranduil had to look away.

“Would you like something to drink? I have wine.”

“Of course you have wine. Wine is good with me.”

Thranduil fetched a bottle of Pinot Noir from the fridge, uncorked it and took out two glasses, pouring equal amounts in each.

After Bard had taken a sip, he regarded Thranduil with warm eyes. “Thanks, doll. This wine is really good. I’ve never had anything like it.”

“I’m just as much of a wine snob as I am a tea snob.”

“And a chicken snob.”

“Yes, that, too.” Thranduil grinned, taking a languid sip of his wine. “I’ve always liked cooking. When I was a kid I used to love mixing up random ingredients. I liked to pretend I was making extravagant meals. I liked making mud pies, too.”

“Ah, yes, good old mud pies,” Bard chuckled fondly. “I actually used to bring them into the house and cook them in the oven, much to mum’s horror.”

Thranduil snorted. “I did that, too. Well, not with the mud pies, but with the strange concoctions I would make. I used to want to be a chef. Until I found that I enjoyed art more than cooking, and I was better at it, too.”

“Your art is very good.”

“I thought you told me you didn’t know anything about art.”

“I don’t, but I know a good piece of art when I see it.”

“Oh, stop. You flatter me too much.”

“It’s not flattery, doll. It’s the truth. ”

Thranduil smiled at Bard. God, the man was too kind to him, always finding some way to make him blush.

“So you said you were getting your kids ready? Ready for what?” Thranduil asked.

“Oh, they’re spending the weekend at my parent’s house. It’ll be nice for them and it’ll give me a chance to catch my breath.”

“Well, that’s good. They’ll have a good time and you’ll get the weekend to yourself.” Thranduil smiled. Maybe Bard would be able to spend the night with him after all…

“Or perhaps the weekend with you…”

“I’d like that. So, tell me something about yourself. I would like to know more about you.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Hmm…have you always worked as an auto-mechanic?”

“Pretty much my whole life, since I was eighteen at least. I did have another job before that, though.”

“Oh, yeah? What did you do?”

Bard chuckled. “I was a roadie for a really shit band.”

Thranduil raised a brow. “Oh, a roadie! This must be an interesting story.”

“Not really, the band sucked and it was just for local gigs. The pay wasn’t great but at least it was something.” Bard shrugged, sipping at his wine. “What about you? Did you have a crappy first job?”

“Hmm, well…my father didn’t want me to work.”

“No? You did do that modeling though…”

Thranduil smirked, brushing back a strand of hair. “Well, I did disobey him and got a job at a clothing store when I was sixteen. Of course he thought serving the public was beneath me, so I ended up quitting within a few months.”

“You quit because of him?”

“Yeah, he gave me the guilt trip. ‘You’re worth more than such a lowly retail job.’” Thranduil rolled his eyes, recalling the way his father scolded him all those years ago. “I wanted to work though, gain a little independence, get out in the world, do something different. He liked to keep me very sheltered.”

“Is that why you did the modeling in college then?”

“Maybe,” he grinned. “I eventually rebelled and said fuck it. It was time to do what I wanted for a change. It was nice to leave home and finally feel some semblance of freedom. I got a scholarship but my father didn’t want me to leave. My mother encouraged it, though.”

“My parents wanted me out the year I turned eighteen. They wanted me to find my own way, even if that meant struggling with barely any money.”

“I would’ve taken that over being coddled like a child.”

“Both have their advantages and disadvantages. Sig was born the first year I lived on my own. I got married the year after. That was a struggle but it wasn’t without its lessons.”

They continued their conversation until the food was ready to be taken out of the oven. Bard helped Thranduil set the table and then they sat down to eat. Thranduil smiled at the appreciative noises Bard made. They shared a few stories while they ate, but were quiet for the most part. Thranduil poured them each another glass of wine and when their plates were empty, he put everything into the dishwasher.

What were they supposed to do now that they had eaten?

“Did you want anything for dessert? I have ice cream, three different kinds of cupcakes…and—”

“Oh, no thanks, doll. I’m stuffed. Besides, you’re all the dessert I need.”

“Oh, stop!” Thranduil grinned. “Let’s go sit down then.”

Thranduil led Bard into the living room with the bottle of wine. He turned on the television and took a seat on the couch, prompting Bard to sit alongside him. Thranduil didn’t really care what was on TV, he merely turned it on so it could provide comfortable background noise.

Bard was clutching his almost empty wine glass as he moved closer to Thranduil.

“Would you like more wine?” Thranduil asked, already beginning to fill up his own glass.

“Sure. Thanks, doll.” Bard held out his glass so Thranduil could fill it.

Bard smirked and let out a little laugh.

“What?” Thranduil questioned, curious as to why Bard was laughing.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“I just still can’t believe you actually modeled naked in art school.”

Thranduil chuckled. “Can’t get the image out of your head, can you?”

“No, you bastard, I can’t. I think I even dreamt about it the other night.”

“Oh? Thinking about me so much I’m actually starting to make appearances in your dreams?”

“It’s kind of hard not to think about.”

“I’m sure that’s not the only thing that was hard.” Thranduil teased, taking another long sip of wine.

Bard grinned, shifting his position so he was now angled towards Thranduil.  “God, Thran. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I have an idea.” Thranduil’s thoughts trailed off and he smiled when he remembered the way Bard pleasured himself last night. And the way he did the very same once he had gotten into bed. Bard was the one who had no idea what he did to Thranduil. “So, you know something ridiculous that I’ve done, now it’s your turn to tell me something ridiculous that you’ve done…”

“Hmm…honestly, I’ve led a pretty boring life, doll. The most excitement I’ve had was when I used to do motorcycle street racing on the back roads. It was a bit fast and a bit reckless, but I had fun and I won more often than not, so it was a way to make a little extra cash.”

“Oooh. A rebel. I like it,” Thranduil smirked, leaning closer with interest. “So you were good, then?”

“I guess so,” Bard shrugged. “It was dangerous though, so I had to stop.”

“You had to?”

“Well…I was forced to.”

“Ah, the infamous ex-wife, I assume.”

“You assume correctly.”

“What a fun-sucker.”

“She did suck a lot of fun out of things, but it made sense for me to stop racing. I had children to think about and not just myself.”

“That’s true.” Thranduil nodded. He understood just how horrible it would’ve been for his children if something bad happened to him.

“Once she wanted me to wax my chest—” Bard laughed.

“No!” Thranduil gasped in mock horror.

“Yeah…”

“Oh, Bard, you didn’t, did you?”

“I…uh…”

“Oh god, you did!”

“I got through one wax strip and had to stop. It fucking hurt like a mother.”

“Why on earth would she want you to wax your chest in the first place?”

“She thought I was too hairy.”

Thranduil scoffed. “I think you’re perfect the way you are.”

“And just how would you know?” Bard laughed. “I didn’t think I’d flashed you yet.”

“Sadly, you haven’t. But I’m hoping that will change by tonight.”

“I’m sure it will.”

“And rest assured, I would never ask you to wax any part of you.”

“Thanks, doll.” Bard smiled, glancing downward. He slowly brought his hand to rest upon Thranduil’s knee, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

A sound of satisfaction escaped Thranduil’s lips; his breath caught when Bard touched him. He had been waiting all night for this. Now if only Bard would be brave enough to move his hand higher up Thranduil’s thigh…

Bard continued rubbing Thranduil’s knee but made no further moves. Ah, so it seemed Thranduil would have to take matters into his own hands. He wanted to feel Bard’s arms around him, he wanted to get lost in Bard’s gentle touches and tender caresses. He scooted closer, jostling the hand on his knee slightly when he moved, so he took hold of Bard’s hand, pulling his arm up so he could slide beneath it. Bard took the hint and wrapped his arm around Thranduil’s back, his hand resting upon Thranduil’s shoulder.

Thranduil leaned his head into Bard’s chest and exhaled a content sigh. God, the way Bard played absently with his hair felt so good. Bard held him tight and a kiss was placed on his head.

“This is nice.” Thranduil mumbled. He ran his fingers over Bard’s leg, trying not to inhale too much of Bard’s heady scent. He was soon going to be intoxicated from more than just the wine.

“Mmm, yes. So nice being here with you.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, content with simply listening to the rise and fall of each other’s breath.  Bard stroked Thranduil’s arm gently and Thranduil reciprocated the affectionate gesture by rubbing Bard’s leg. They sipped at their wine and stared at the TV as if they were watching it.

A documentary about Beethoven was on, but Thranduil didn’t register anything that was being said. He simply enjoyed the music that played every so often.

“Hmm,” Bard hummed. “I can play that song on the guitar.” He was talking about Fur Elise. “Did a heavy metal version of it at a few shows.”

“Oh.” Thranduil perked up. “You played shows?”

“Yeah. Nothing big, though.”

“So you were in a band?”

“For a while. The roadie thing sort of led to it. I was doing a set for a band one night and their guitarist didn’t show, so they asked me to step in. So I did, and that’s pretty much how it happened.”

“Mmm, so you must be really good.”

“Meh.”

“Oh, shush. You don’t give yourself enough credit. I bet you’re amazing. Maybe you’ll play something for me sometime…”

“If you really want…”

“Yeah, I’d love to hear you play.”

“Do you play any instruments?” Bard asked. He nuzzled his face into Thranduil’s hair and gave him a few more delicate kisses.

Ah, of course Bard would ask. Now Thranduil had to bring up his musical background. Sometimes he hated telling people about his training in classical music. People always seemed to think it was pretentious. Thranduil didn’t want to be viewed that way.

“I do.” He said simply.

“And what do you play?”

“Violin and piano.”

“Ooh! How long have you played? Are you good?”

“I’ve played the violin since I was about five or six. Started piano a few years later. My mom was a classically trained pianist, so music was a big part of my childhood.”

“Oh, wow. Multiple talents. Do you still play?”

“I haven’t in a while.”

“I’ll play you my metal version of Fur Elise, if you play something for me.”

Oh, Bard was going to get him with bribery! Thranduil chuckled. “Is that how it is? You’re going to withhold your own skills until I show you mine?”

“Will you show me yours?”

“If you show me yours first.”

“Deal.”

God, the sexual tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. All Thranduil wanted to do was push Bard down onto the couch and devour his lips in a deep kiss. It was all he could think of, it consumed him. Was he supposed to wait for Bard to make a move or should he just go for it?

There was nothing to lose.

“Bard?” Thranduil asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yeah, doll?”

“Can I – uh – would you – umm…”

“What does my beautiful doll want?” Another kiss on his head.

“Kiss me.”

“Yeah? Can I?”

“Mmm, yeah.” Thranduil turned his head upward, his face now mere inches from Bard’s. Their lips so close, so tantalizing close…

Bard closed the distance, pressing his lips to Thranduil’s. God, it was perfect; so gentle, so tender. A wave of pleasure rushed through his body. Thranduil wanted more, so much more. He moaned when Bard pulled away, not wanting it to be over.

“Like that?” Bard murmured, but before he could say anymore, Thranduil captured his lips again, kissing him deeper, with more passion, more want.

“Mmm, the wine tastes better from your lips than it does from my glass.” Thranduil said, catching Bard’s bottom lip with his teeth before easing away.

“God, everything tastes better coming from your lips.”

“Then kiss me again. I’ve been waiting all night for this.”

Bard chuckled. “So have I, doll. So have I.”

Thranduil twined his fingers into Bard’s hair, pulling him closer, their lips sliding together once more. It felt so good to be able to kiss Bard again, to be so close, so intimate. Bard shifted his position and Thranduil responded by leaning back, yanking Bard lower. Soon enough, Thranduil was lying flat, Bard hovering above him, kisses growing more and more heated. One of Bard’s hands went into his hair while the other caressed his cheek. Thranduil’s breath hitched; in this position, he could feel just how hard Bard was. Could Bard feel how aroused he was, too?

Somewhere along the way, Thranduil ended up in Bard’s lap. He didn’t know how long they spent kissing and holding and caressing; it all felt so unbelievably good, he didn’t want it to end. But Bard’s words brought him back to reality.

“It’s getting late, doll,” Bard whispered, pressing another feather light kiss onto Thranduil’s neck.

“Mmm,” Thranduil hummed. “Is it? Time stands still when I’m with you.”

He felt Bard smile against his neck, causing him to smile in return. He littered kisses along Bard’s jaw, hands wound into all that unruly dark hair.

“I could hold you all night.” Bard’s lips traced lower to his clavicle, kissing back just as eagerly.

“Then why don’t you?” Thranduil pulled back just enough to see Bard’s face. He ran his thumb lightly over Bard’s cheek. “You could…stay here tonight…with me. If you wanted to.”

“With you? Here?” Bard buried his face into the crook of Thranduil’s neck once again, inhaling deeply. His hands rubbed up and down Thranduil’s arms, then his back, finally coming to rest upon his waist.

“Yeah, with me. Would you like that?” Thranduil blinked slowly, looking at Bard through long lashes.

“God, you don’t know how much I’d like that.”

“And you said the kids are at your parents. So it’s not like you have to rush home in the morning.” Thranduil stroked Bard’s shoulders, his back, pulling him closer, wrapping himself around Bard’s strong body.

“As long as you’re okay with me being here.”

Thranduil smiled. Bard was so kind to consider his feelings like this. But of course he was okay with Bard being here. He wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t.

“Yes, I’m okay with it. And it would be irresponsible of me to let you drive after all the wine you’ve had.” Thranduil smirked.

“Yes, very irresponsible. So…uh…I didn’t exactly bring any night clothes…I may need to borrow a t-shirt…”

“A t-shirt? Really? It’s hot upstairs…”

“It’s pretty hot down here, doll.” Bard chuckled.

“Are you wearing underwear, Bard?”

“Um…yes…I am.”

“Then you can sleep in that.”

“Do you have a guest room? Or, uh— ”

“I do, but you don’t have to sleep in the guest room.” Thranduil took a deep breath. “You could…maybe…stay with me?”

“Um, really? Wow, I’d be honoured. I mean…I just…” Bard hesitated. “Oh, god, I’m not sure what I mean. Could you…uh… I don’t know what you’re asking me…”

Thranduil chuckled at how flustered Bard had become. “I’m asking if you’d like to sleep in my bed with me…”

“Sleep as in…sleep, or sleep as in…do other things?”

“Well, we don’t have to do anything… I mean, unless you want to…”

“I’m cool with just sleeping. Unless, you wanted to do more than just sleep…”

“I don’t know what I’m ready fo—”

“Oh, no, I know, I know. No pressure, doll. I’m happy just lying beside you all night.”

“Although…there is something I’d like to do.”

“What is it? You know I’d give you anything you ask for.”

“Well, I was thinking about last night. And – uh – I would really like to touch you the way we talked about...”

“Oh, god, Thran.” Bard kissed Thranduil on the lips, pulling their bodies together. When he pulled away he grinned and brushed a finger through Thranduil’s hair.

“You weren’t the only one who was turned on,” Thranduil confessed.

“Oh, really? What did you do after we ended our conversation?”

“Mmm, you wanna know?”

“Yeah, tell me and then maybe I’ll let you touch me the way I was imagining…”

“You’ll let me touch you even if I don’t tell you.” Thranduil cooed, kissing Bard’s neck.

“True. But I’d like to know.”

“Maybe I did the same thing as you…”

“Mmm, yeah? What did you think about?”

“I thought about letting you take me for a ride on your motorcycle, and how amazing your hands would feel all over my body. What did you think about?”

“I thought about what you were saying to me, you telling me to pretend it was your hand on my cock.”

“Ooh, did it feel good? What did I do with my hands?”

“You drove me crazy in about ten seconds, you bastard!” Bard’s fingers ventured down Thranduil’s arms, running softly over his skin.

“I bet I could take you in five.” Thranduil quipped, nibbling at Bard’s neck.

“God, less than that. Now tell me what it felt like for you.” Bard stroked Thranduil’s hair, cupped his face with those rugged hands and nipped at his bottom lip. “Tell me, doll.”

“Good, so good. But nothing compared to what it would feel like if it were your hands teasing me like that.”

“Do you want to feel my hands teasing you like that?”

“Mmm, yes. I bet you have very skilled hands…”

“They’re used to making engines purr.” Bard ran a finger over Thranduil’s lips. “Tell me how I can make you purr.”

Thranduil’s mouth turned up into a grin. He caught Bard’s finger between his lips, pulling it into his mouth. He moaned around Bard’s finger, sucking it slowly, twirling his tongue around it. Bard made a grunting noise and closed his eyes. It was such an arousing sight; Bard deserved to feel good, and Thranduil wanted to be the one to bring him such pleasure.

When Bard’s eyes fluttered open it was as if Thranduil knew exactly what he was thinking.

So, after releasing Bard’s finger, Thranduil smiled and whispered, “Take me up to bed and then I’ll purr for you all night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are they going to do?!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little steamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is explicit!

Thranduil’s hand tightened around Bard’s, pulling him towards the stairs.

On their way up, Thranduil turned and gave Bard a mischievous grin.

“I have something for you.” Thranduil said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Oh yeah? What do you have for me? A swift kick in the ass for not bringing pajamas?”

“Oh, shush. I’d give you a swift kick in the ass if you did bring pajamas.”

“True. That would be presumptuous.”

“It would also be unnecessary. You know how I sleep.” Thranduil led Bard into his bedroom and let go of his hand.

“Naked.” Bard confirmed, smiling. He felt a stir of arousal in his loins, but stayed still, not wanting to reveal just how easily Thranduil turned him on. “So what do you have for me?”

“Wait here,” Thranduil said. He went into the bathroom and reappeared after a few seconds with his hands behind his back. “I’ve been saving this for you.”

“Should I close my eyes?”

Thranduil chuckled. “You don’t have to. Unless you have a kink for things that go in your mouth…”

“Oh, god, Thran.” Bard laughed. What could Thranduil possibly have for him? “Now I have no idea what to expect.”

“Ready?”

“I guess so. What kind of sex toy are you going to give me?” Or maybe he had condoms… Bard never expected things to get far enough for condoms to be involved.

Thranduil burst out laughing. “No sex toys.”

Then he pulled his hands from behind his back and handed Bard a – a toothbrush?

“You’re going to have to deal with my kink for minty freshness.”

Bard chuckled. This was definitely not what he expected. “That’s one hell of a kink. I think that’s a kink we might share.”

“I was hoping so. The wine might taste good on your lips, but I draw the line at garlic.”

Bard snorted. “A little late for that, doll. You’ve practically devoured my mouth already.”

“Barely.” Thranduil snickered, waving a hand. “So, come, let us brush our teeth and then maybe I’ll show you what it means to be devoured.”

“Bastard!”

Thranduil smirked and led Bard into the bathroom where they fumbled with toothpaste, trying to brush their teeth quickly so they could get back to where they left off before they came upstairs. Bard didn’t know what was going to happen, didn’t know how far Thranduil was willing to take things tonight, or if he even wanted to do anything at all. Was he just teasing Bard, or was there truth behind his words? True, they were both a little buzzed from the wine, but all that did was help Bard feel a little more confident. He hoped it could help Thranduil feel more confident, too.

Bard decided to let Thranduil make the first move, whatever that would be. He knew it would be wrong to assume what Thranduil wanted, so he felt better letting Thranduil take the first step. It was important to Bard that Thranduil know he would never force him into anything. He wanted Thranduil’s trust, wanted Thranduil to know just how much he cared about him.

_Stop worrying so much! Just let him know that you would never do anything to hurt him and that he is wonderful and amazing and worthy of love…_

Bard looked at himself in the mirror and ran a hand over his face. The sight of Thranduil in the mirror next to him, running a hairbrush through all that gorgeous hair was a nice distraction from his inner monologue.

The hairbrush went back onto the counter only to be replaced by Thranduil’s elegant fingers. They ran through the long white-blonde tresses deftly, drawing a small sound from Bard’s throat.  How was it possible for such a simple act to look so god damned seductive? There was something about Thranduil’s fingers touching his own hair that spiked Bard’s arousal until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

He leaned over so he could touch Thranduil’s hair for himself. He brushed his fingers through it, stopping only when his hand grazed Thranduil’s. Thranduil hummed, catching Bard’s hand and pulling it up to his mouth so he could place a tender kiss on Bard’s knuckles. Then he stepped closer, still holding Bard’s hand and brushed his lips against Bard’s.

Minty freshness.

“I hope you don’t mind the sight of stitches. I refuse to keep this awful bandage on a second longer.” Thranduil pulled away from Bard, removed the bandage from his head and gently cleaned his stitches.

“Doesn’t bother me one bit.”

“Good.”

Thranduil made his way out of the bathroom, beckoning Bard to follow. Once they were standing beside the bed, Bard didn’t know what to do next. Luckily, Thranduil smiled at him and traced a finger over his lips.

“So gorgeous.” Thranduil whispered.

Bard hummed, leaning forward to kiss Thranduil’s lips. “Such a beautiful doll. Hey, when we texted…you said you were my doll, and I could….undress you…”

So much for not making the first move.

“Mmm, I love being your doll. You can do whatever you’d like to me…”

Bard looked deeply into Thranduil eyes, smiling. He stroked Thranduil’s hair and pulled him close so their bodies were touching. “I won’t do anything to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“But, god, I want to take your clothes off.”

_You were supposed to let him make the first move!_

“Mmm, undress me then. I trust you, Bard.”

“Yeah? Does it turn you on to have someone undress you?”

“Yeah, it does. Especially you.” Thranduil’s hands were rubbing Bard’s arms and back, tracing around to his ribs, causing him to shudder in anticipation. His hands were just as eager, running down Thranduil’s chest, tugging at the hem of his Henley, his hands easing underneath very, very slowly. His fingers grazed along Thranduil’s sides, trailing up his back.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes, so good. Take it off.”

Bard gulped. He pulled the shirt up and eased it over Thranduil’s head, pressing a soft kiss to his lips as he pulled it off Thranduil’s arms. Bard stepped back so he could take a good look at Thranduil’s body.

Holy shit. He was beautiful, absolutely stunning.

“My god, doll.” He pressed a kiss to Thranduil’s neck, rubbing his shoulders and arms. “You’re so beautiful, so pale, like marble. A real work of art.”

“Bard,” Thranduil moaned, voice thick with desire, “I don’t deserve such praise.” His hands found their way to the hem of Bard’s shirt, pulling it up so his hands could slide underneath. His fingers worked their way to Bard’s shoulder blade, lifting his shirt higher.

“You deserve to be worshipped, my beautiful doll. You really are gorgeous.”

“Thank you, lover. So are you.” Lips, teeth and tongue assaulted his neck. God, it was such torturous pleasure, his cock twitched in his jeans and he ground his hips into Thranduil’s.

“Mmm, doll. You don’t know what you do to me, you don’t know how much I want --”

“What do you want?”

“God, I don’t even know what I want.”

“Tell me.”

“I want…as much of you as you’ll give me.”

“Yeah? I want you, too.” Thranduil’s hands rubbed his back and slowly grazed over his ribs, those long fingers tracing over his chest.

“Fuck, you’re so hard to resist.” Bard’s hands were all over Thranduil’s back and chest and waist; he was barely even aware of where he was touching, he was so lost in the feeling of Thranduil’s hands on him, of how good it felt to be touched like this.

“Then don’t resist.”

“But…it can’t be up to me. It has to be up to you, doll, because right now, I’ve got no control. I’ll go too fast…I’ll do somethi--”

“Shh,” Thranduil cooed. “You won’t do anything wrong.”

“I--” Bard tried to breathe, but his throat went dry when Thranduil lifted his shirt and pulled it over his head. Thranduil made an appreciative sound and tossed the shirt on the floor. 

Sighing, Bard tilted his head back and closed his eyes, heightening the sensation of Thranduil’s fingers caressing his skin.

“Ohh, what’s this?” Thranduil asked, drawing Bard’s eyes open. “I thought you’d be the type to have a tattoo.”

“Oh, that’s my phoenix. Got it done in high school.” Bard shuddered as Thranduil’s fingers traced the lines of his tattoo. “You know the phoenix rises out of the flames of his own destruction, right?”

“Mmm, yes. That’s beautiful.” Thranduil murmured, pushing Bard backward until his legs brought up in the bed and he was shoved down. He didn’t even have time to think before Thranduil was on his knees, hovering above him.

“I never realized how true that was. My old life has gone up in flames, but I don’t care.”

“So has mine, but I think it’s for the best. We can rise from the ashes and find a better life.”

“Yes, a better life.” Bard echoed. “Maybe it sounds stupid, but that’s what I think every time I think of you.”

Thranduil smiled coyly and ran a finger over Bard’s lips. “I think the same thing whenever I think about you. Being with you feels so…right.”

“Feels more than right. It’s damned erotic is what it is.” Bard cupped Thranduil’s face and pulled him closer for a kiss. He could feel Thranduil’s smile as they kissed, and when Thranduil pulled away a perverse smirk remained, tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re erotic.” Thranduil whispered before sliding lower on the bed. “Let me get a better look at it.”

“Look all you want, doll. I’ve never had anyone look at me the way you do.” Bard’s entire body tingled from the feeling of Thranduil’s fingers trailing over the lines of his tattoo. “Mmm, that feels so good, what you’re doing…”

“No one has ever looked at me the way you do either.”

Bard chuckled. “What, like they want to eat you for lunch?”

Thranduil made a faint snorting sound, and then looked up at Bard, still stroking his hands upon Bard’s ribs. “Lots of people look at me like they want to eat me for lunch, but no one ever looks at me like they actually respect me or care about me the way you do.”

“Well I respect you, and I care about you, but I still want to eat you for lunch.” Bard wound his hands into Thranduil’s hair, beckoning him to come closer, until their chests were pressed together. They fit together perfectly, and Bard found himself bucking his hips up, seeking out the friction his body so desperately craved.

“You can have me for breakfast, lunch and dinner.” Thranduil smirked, nuzzling his head into Bard’s shoulder. “I’ll even let you have dessert, too.”

“Doll, you are dessert.” Bard shuddered. The way Thranduil’s elegant fingers danced over his skin with such delicacy was almost too much for Bard to handle. His body tingled from head to toe when soft lips littered wet kisses upon his abdomen. Such gentle touches.

“Mmm, and you’re a full course meal. I bet you could fill me up real fast.” Thranduil grinned.

A long finger traced the wings of his phoenix, over his ribs, leaving him with an electrifying warmth in his chest. God, Thranduil was perfect.

“Not yet, first I want to touch you, convince myself you’re real.”

Thranduil looked up from Bard’s tattoo. When their eyes met, Thranduil pressed one more kiss on the wing of the phoenix, then slid up until they were eye to eye. He intertwined their fingers to pull Bard closer. They were both lying on their sides, gazing into each other eyes. Bard ran his fingers through the ends of Thranduil’s hair, traced slowly down Thranduil’s neck, over his shoulders, down his arms, grazed over his ribs and squeezed his hips softly. It was such an unfamiliar feeling to feel so content and at ease lying next to someone. If Bard didn’t know any better, he would swear he was having an epiphany. He sighed, stroking Thranduil’s hip bones. “God, you’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I’m lying next to you. It’s like a dream.”

“If it’s a dream, then I never want to wake up.” Elegant fingers threaded into Bard’s hair to tug softly, and soft lips pressed kisses along Bard’s neck, each one so compelling that Bard trembled. Fuck – how did Thranduil know all of his weaknesses? Had he told Thranduil that neck kisses made him melt? That long fingers running through his hair sent adrenaline racing through his body?

 “Bard?” Thranduil whispered. “I-I want to know something…”

 “Yeah, doll? What do you want to know?” Bard said. He brushed a stray lock of hair behind Thranduil’s ear.

Thranduil hummed against Bard’s throat, licking and nipping at his skin.

“I would like to know….well – what…what are we, Bard? What is this between us?” Thranduil kept his face buried in Bard’s neck, one hand in Bard’s hair and the other trailing up and down his ribs.

Bard smiled; was Thranduil asking if they were in a relationship, if they were together? He caught Thranduil’s hand, kissing his knuckles as he thought of how he would respond.

He really wanted a relationship, more than anything. But he didn’t want to push Thranduil or make him uncomfortable in any way. What did Thranduil even see in him? But saying that would ruin the moment – the last thing he wanted. 

Tonight he lived in a fairytale, and tomorrow didn’t matter…

“Are you asking if we’re…a pair? Dating? God, that sounds presumptuous...”

“It’s not presumptuous…”

“Well...I don’t know what you want, doll, but I hope you want the same thing I do.”

“Mmm, tell me what you want.”

“You.”

“I want you, too.”

“Really? You—you’re not just saying that? Because you are really…something amazing.”

“Oh, stop.” Thranduil let his head fall onto Bard’s chest, “You’re the one who’s amazing, and I want to be with you.”

“I feel amazing when I’m with you. I could get used to that really fast.”

“So could I. I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. I didn’t even know I could still feel this way.”

“I haven’t felt this way for a very long time, either. I… guess we’ve both been through the wringer.”

Thranduil nodded and pressed another soft kiss to Bard’s chest.

“I don’t want to make a mistake and hurt you.”

“You won’t. And I want you to know I’d never hurt you. I will only ever cherish you. You deserve to be treasured.”

“So do you. But if you think I don’t want everything you’re willing to offer me, you’re a fool, and I don’t think you’re a fool.”

“I’m no fool, but I could be a fool for you.”

Bard grinned. “Yeah? Um…show me?”

“Show you how I can be a fool for you?”

“Yeah.”

“How would you like me to show you?”

“Oh, god….can you…would you…kiss me?”

“I’d love to,” Thranduil purred, leaning in ever so slowly. He kissed Bard’s lips softly before pulling away. “Like that?”

“Mmmm…what about…like this?” Bard breathed into Thranduil’s mouth, barely getting the words out before he pushed his tongue past those lips and kissed Thranduil with fervor. God, that mouth was so warm and inviting. He wanted more, he wanted everything Thranduil was offering him.

“Mmmm, that’s even better.”

Bard wrapped his hands into Thranduil’s hair and pulled him closer for a deeper kiss. “What about this?” He kissed Thranduil passionately as those beautiful hands latched onto his shoulders. It was such an urgent touch, so full of want and desire the way Thranduil’s fingers dug into his skin. “So does that tell you what you want to know, doll?”

“Mmm,” Thranduil moaned, “it does.”

Bard’s breath caught when Thranduil’s kisses trailed down his neck.

“Oh, god, doll. That feels so good. So good…” Bard’s head was spinning, lost in the feeling of Thranduil’s lips dragging sensuously against his skin, lower and lower until he reached Bard’s pectorals. A stray finger ran over Bard’s nipple. A sharp sigh escaped him, and his hands wound tighter into that beautiful long hair.

The kisses stopped. Thranduil looked up at him and smirked, rubbing his fingers experimentally over Bard’s nipple in such a tantalizing way that it made Bard’s cock twitch. Damned pants! Just thinking about Thranduil undoing his zipper had his cock hard and straining against his jeans.

“You like that?” Thranduil cooed, rolling Bard’s nipple between his fingers.

“Oh god, Thran! Uhmmm, I c-c-can’t even tell you how good that feels…”

“You’re so sexy when you’re turned on.”

“You’re so sexy when you’re turning me on.”

“What if I do this…” Thranduil kissed his way down Bard’s chest, his lips running over Bard’s nipple, while his hand massaged the other.

“Oh, fuck, oh my god! You fight dirty, you bastard.”

He looked down at Thranduil, watching those pretty lips suck and lick at his nipple. Thranduil knew exactly how to tease Bard. It was maddening! How was he supposed to control himself when such a gorgeous doll desecrated him so sweetly?

Thranduil chuckled, the sound vibrating upon his skin. He grabbed Thranduil’s arms, pushed him over. “Let’s see how you like it!” He ran both hands down Thranduil’s chest, caressing his nipples.

Thranduil moaned, eyes shutting, mouth parting slightly. What a divine sight. Bard adjusted his position atop Thranduil, moving back so he could get a better view of the beautiful creature that lay beneath him. He couldn’t admire the view for long though. Those pretty pink nipples beckoned to be licked, so he pressed his lips against one very gently. His mouth moved in time with his hand, fingers rolling and pinching, mouth and tongue licking and suckling.

His gorgeous doll had melted; his head was thrown back, his back arched, his legs slowly opened to let Bard ease between them. Thranduil’s cock pressed hard against Bard’s abdomen. How badly he wanted to get Thranduil out of those pants! But he wouldn’t dare make the move without Thranduil telling him to. For now, he would tease his doll into euphoria.

A deep, throaty sigh left Thranduil’s lips when Bard caught one of those nipples between his teeth. It wasn’t enough to hurt, only to tease. Thranduil’s body language was easy enough to read. He was saying, more, more, more. And that’s exactly what Bard wanted to give him.

“Oh, you fucker! Mmm…”

“Ooh, you like it, don’t you?”

“Fuck yes, you’re going to be the death of me.” Thranduil swung a leg over one of Bard’s as his hands twined into Bard’s hair.

“If making you feel good is the death of you, the hell yes, I am.” Bard said between kisses.

Thranduil’s hands ran down Bard’s back, pulling him closer. Bard ground his hips into Thranduil’s – damn, how good did that feel? Too good to stop.

“Oh god, that feels so good.”

“Tell me how good it is, doll. Tell me.”

“It’s good, so, so good. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Bard promised, pulling himself up so he could kiss Thranduil on the lips. “Mmm, you taste so good.”

“Mmm, so do you.” Thranduil sighed and let out a loud moan when Bard pinched his nipple.

“I like to hear you moan.”

“You make me moan so easily, baby.”

“Tell me what you want, Thran. Tell me everything.”

“I want you. I want to…touch you.

“Touch me where?”

“Mmm, where would you like me to touch you?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. It’s been so long since anyone’s touched me”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“You already do. Even the way your hair feels against my arms is so good. And your hands in my hair…”

“I could put my hands somewhere else…” Thranduil grinned and ran his hands down Bard’s abdomen until his fingers caught onto the button on Bard’s jeans. His expression changed…sly, coy, seductive… Bard was far too turned on to be able to name it. All that matter right now was that Thranduil had popped open his jeans. Very slowly. “Can I?”

“You just did.”

“You know what I mean.” Those deft fingers undid his zipper and toyed with the waistband of his underwear.

Bard wasn’t sure if Thranduil actually planned to touch his cock, or if he was just teasing. The last thing Bard wanted was for Thranduil to do something he didn’t feel comfortable with. God, the rational part of Bard’s brain always seemed to take over at the worst possible times.

“Are you sure?” He looked Thranduil in the eyes.

“I’m sure, Bard. I want to touch you.”

“Okay…I, uhh, don’t want you to feel—”

“Hey – I want to, okay? I want to feel your cock in my hand; I want to get you off.”

“Hell, it’s been so long since anyone has touched me that I don’t know anything anymore. So show me what I’ve been missing all this time, yeah?”

“This is what you been fantasizing about, isn’t it?” Thranduil’s traced a finger over Bard’s cock. Despite the fabric between Thranduil’s finger and his cock, the touch felt so good that Bard’s whole body shuddered. The anticipation was killing him. “God, you’re so hard already. You want me bad, don’t you?”

“I – you – god, doll…I want you now…”

Within seconds, a hand was cupping his cock, rubbing it in such an achingly slow motion. Bard’s breath hitched and his head dropped. He rested his forehead in the crook of Thranduil’s neck, nibbling at that sensitive pale skin as the most beautiful hands in the world eased his cock from his underwear.

“Like this?” Thranduil purred, his fingers wrapping around Bard’s cock, pumping it oh so slowly. Then he stopped, holding it firmly in his hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth on the head of it.

Bard whimpered. He couldn’t form a sentence.

“Fuck, you’ve got a huge cock.”

God, just hearing those words coming from Thranduil’s mouth made Bard dizzy with desire. He wanted that elegant hand to stroke his cock until he came all over Thranduil’s gorgeous body. He wanted to slide his cock deep inside Thranduil and fuck him until both of their bodies trembled and they climaxed in each other arms.

“Fuck, you swear like a sailor. If you keep it up, I’ll come in seconds.”

Thranduil started stroking as he pressed wet kisses to Bard’s shoulder. Bard’s arms were shaking from holding himself above Thranduil, but he wouldn’t dare move. It felt so good. Better than anything he ever felt in his entire life. No one had ever touched him like this before.

“Mmm, you like that, don’t you, baby?”

“Yeah, so fucking good. Finish me now, doll, or you’ll find out where I want to put my huge cock…”

“Mmm.”

“…And it won’t be back in my jeans.”

“No, not there.” Thranduil breathed against his shoulder. His hand was moving faster and faster. “It would feel so good inside me.”

Bard gasped, he didn’t want to come yet, but he could not hold on. He had no control anymore. “Oh fuck, Thran. Yeah, just like that.”

“Yes, I want you to come for me.”

Bard lifted his head so he could look at Thranduil. “Oh my god, look at me, doll. I’m gonna come and I want to see you.”

“Yeah, let me see you come.” Their eyes locked.

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you, Bard. Every day, forever.”

His body spasmed and he captured Thranduil’s lips in a feverish kiss as his orgasm washed over him. God, it felt so good, so right. His arms gave out, letting him slump down so he could nestle into Thranduil’s side, his breath ragged and heavy. Long fingers stroked his hair, a hand still holding his cock loosely as lips kissed his forehead.

“So beautiful.” Thranduil whispered, wrapping both arms snugly around Bard’s shaking body.

“You’re perfect.” Bard sighed. Thranduil was amazing, more than amazing, he was everything Bard had ever wanted. How was it possible for another person to make him feel this good? Bard couldn’t remember the last time he felt so content. The orgasm he had last night from his own touch, was nothing compared to what he just experienced.

“You are.”

Bard eased his head from the crook of Thranduil’s neck, looking into those pale blue eyes. Never had he seen such a beautiful sight, never had he imagined such a beautiful person would be lying beside him, holding him with such affection.

“I’ve made a mess of you,” Bard said. He had been so caught up in the moment that only now he realized that he had released upon Thranduil’s abdomen. Fuck, he’d never admit it aloud, but it made something stir in his core, despite having just had the orgasm of his life. His lover looked absolutely stunning lying there like such a seductress with Bard’s essence upon his pale skin.

Thranduil smirked as he ran a finger over his abdomen and then popped it in his mouth, licking off all traces of Bard’s release. “You taste good,” he purred.

Good lord. Watching Thranduil lick his come off his fingers was such an unexpected turn on, but then again, everything Thranduil did turned him on.

“You feel good. You’re shameless, aren’t you?”

“Mmm, maybe. But so are you. You let me do it, and you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“I more than enjoyed that. I’ve never had anyone touch me like that.”

“Never?”

Bard shook his head. “Umm…my…ex thought it was disgusting, so no, she didn’t touch me--” He stopped. _Don’t fucking bring her up right now! What the hell is wrong with you?_

“She didn’t do much, did she?” Thranduil scoffed.

“I don’t want to talk about her. This is our time, my time with you – nothing else matters.”

“No, nothing else matters but us. I’d love to touch you like this, whenever you ask me to...”

Bard placed a tender kiss on Thranduil’s lips. “Can I do something for you?”

“Anything,” Thranduil murmured. “What would you like to do?”

“I can do anything?” Bard grinned.

“Well…almost anything,” Thranduil grinned back.

“What would you like, doll? What can I give you?”

The way Thranduil sighed, fluttering his lashes, was more than tempting. Bard bit his bottom lip before giving Thranduil a hard kiss. Those pale blue eyes looked up at him. Thranduil looked so needy, so wanton, so – so hungry.

“Can – can you--” Thranduil paused to take a deep breath, burying his face into the space where Bard’s neck met his shoulder. His breath was hot and it sent shivers down Bard’s spine.

“Can I what? Tell me what you’d like.”

“Mmm,” Thranduil breathed into Bard’s ear. “I’m not used to being asked what I would like…”

“No? Well it’s time you were asked.” Bard stroked and kissed his hair. “I want to treat you like the treasure you are. Tell me what I can do for you, and I’ll grant your wish, sweet doll.”

Thranduil hummed, kissing Bard’s neck and stroking his back in languid motions. “You’re so good to me, lover.” He eased his face from Bard’s neck and looked back into Bard’s eyes. Bard held his gaze expectantly. “I’d like you to…touch me…”

“The way you touched me, or differently?”

“That way, yes.” Thranduil said, his voice grew hushed, and he sounded almost shy. “But slowly.”

Bard smiled. “Of course, doll.” He caught Thranduil’s lips in a kiss and when he pulled away he brushed a stray piece of hair from Thranduil’s face. He traced a finger down Thranduil’s smooth chest to run along the top of his jeans. His breath caught when he felt just how hard Thranduil was. He couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch such perfection. “Like…this?”

“Mmm, yes. Don’t be shy.” Thranduil moaned, his words slurring together as if Bard’s touch was intoxicating. He was absolutely stunning, lying there, hair a mess, eyes glazed over, just waiting for Bard to touch him…

He touched the button on Thranduil’s jeans. “May I?” When Thranduil nodded in reply, Bard popped the button open and slowly pulled at the zipper, finally revealing Thranduil’s underwear.

Fuck, was he wearing lace? Bard swallowed hard. Shit, he was. Did Thranduil have any idea what his choice of underwear was doing to Bard right now?

Once Bard had the zipper all the way down it was clear just how aroused Thranduil really was. A breathy whimper left Thranduil’s lips when Bard traced a finger along his underwear. Really, they didn’t even deserve to be called underwear, the damned things were panties, fucking lacy panties and they were messing with Bard’s head. They were so revealing, they could barely contain Thranduil’s cock.

Finally, after pressing a kiss to Thranduil’s hair, Bard let his fingers wander lower. He ran one finger up and down Thranduil’s cock. It took a lot of restraint to not just reach into those panties and manhandle his cock until he came. Bard tried to pace himself. He’d never touched another man like this before. The anticipation was going to kill him.

“Mmm, my doll looks so sexy in lace,” Bard cooed in Thranduil’s ear, rubbing his cock over the thin fabric of the underwear. Fuck, they didn’t leave much to the imagination. “How does this feel?”

“Good, so good.”

Bard kissed him. “Good. I’m glad it feels good. Your cock certainly seems to like it.”

Thranduil hummed, leaning his head back, giving Bard free access to the pale expanse of his neck. Bard took the bait, kissing and biting and licking at his sensitive skin. Thranduil moaned when Bard palmed harder at his cock.

“Bard?” Thranduil sighed. “Can you…completely remove my pants?”

“Of course I can,” Bard said, trailing his kisses down Thranduil’s chest until he reached his nipples. He took one in his mouth, suckling gently. The little breathy sounds coming from Thranduil’s mouth caused Bard’s cock to twitch. He was practically half-hard again just from the sounds Thranduil was making. It felt good to feel desirable; it felt good to make someone else feel good.

“Bard…”

“Oh, were you asking me to remove them, or just questioning my…capabilities?”

Thranduil chuckled. “You’re funny. I want them off.”

Bard looked in Thranduil’s eyes to confirm this was what he wanted, and when Thranduil nodded, Bard shuffled lower, took hold of the bottom hems of the pants and yanked them hard. He got them down to Thranduil’s knees, but had to stop to appreciate the sight before him.

Fuck. What perfection.

He hauled the pants the rest of the way down off and tossed them aside. “Feel better? Getting too warm for you, doll?”

“Mmm, yes, too warm, too restrictive. Thank you for ridding me of them, lover.”

“Of course, anything for you.” He slid up the bed, taking in the beautiful view of Thranduil in nothing but lacy black panties, his cock hard and throbbing beneath them. Bard grinned and looked into those soft blue eyes, smirking as he teased the lacy waistband of Thranduil’s underwear. The look in Thranduil’s eyes said he wanted Bard to shed him of his underwear, too.

“I hope this isn’t too warm.” Bard said as he put a hand over Thranduil’s cock.

“It’s just right.”

God, Thranduil was so hard that Bard could feel the tip of his cock when he snuck his finger beneath the hem of his underwear. His breath caught hard in his throat. He let his eyes wander down to where his fingers were busy dancing over the lace that stood between him and his prize. Just when he was wondering if he should pull down Thranduil’s underwear to reveal his cock, Thranduil took over, hooking his thumbs under the waistband and inching the tight fabric lower, finally freeing the head of his cock.

What a fucking beautiful thing. Bard knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help himself. Thranduil’s cock was glistening with pre come. It left a pearly sheen upon his skin where his perfect cock rested, hard and ready, beckoning Bard to touch it.

“Thran,” Bard growled, “Do you have any idea how pretty you are, lying here beside me?”

“Mmm, no, lover. Tell me.” Thranduil’s voice was low and throaty and he spoke like he couldn’t catch his breath. His chest rose and fell quicker and quicker. He eased the panties down lower, exposing all of his beautiful pale cock.

Bard needed another second to breathe. Never in all his life had he seen something so perfect. Thranduil’s cock was just like the rest of him, long, pale, elegant and Bard couldn’t get enough. Instinctively, his hand wrapped around it and stroked oh so slowly.

“Such beautiful hair, all disheveled around you like a halo of light, and such pale skin, waiting to be kissed, and such a long, elegant cock, hard and aching for me…”

“Mmm, such beautiful words, Bard. Are you a poet?” Thranduil cooed, smiling. He ran his hands down his chest and over his ribs, arching his back.

“If only you could see what I see. That light in your eyes, wanting to come – well, who wouldn’t be a poet in the face of such beauty?” Bard licked a trail down his neck, and then latched onto one of his nipples, tightening his grip on Thranduil’s cock. Thranduil moaned and put a hand over Bard’s and urged it into the rhythm that teased him most.

“God, baby, you really know how to flatter me.”

“No flattery here, only truth.” Bard breathed, biting at Thranduil’s bottom lip before pushing his tongue into that warm mouth. “Now let’s get you out of that lace.”

“Such a tease.” Thranduil arched his back deeper, stretching his arms above his head. Bard pulled his underwear down to his ankles, prompting Thranduil to kick them off. Now Bard’s gorgeous prize was laid out before him completely naked. When Bard put his hand back on Thranduil’s cock, Thranduil thrust his hips, exhaling a shaky breath. “Oh, fuck. That feels so good. Don’t stop or I’ll have to beg.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Is that what you want, lover? You want me to beg?”

“Mmm, yeah. Beg me, doll.”

“Please, baby. Please make me come. I want to come so bad.” Thranduil whimpered, pumping his cock into the circle of Bard’s fingers. “Faster.”

“Like this?” Bard picked up the pace, stroking Thranduil’s cock as if he were doing it to himself. Bard may have never done this to another person before, but he knew what felt good, so he teased Thranduil, working his cock fast, then slowing down, then speeding up again, building the pressure as he sealed their lips in a frantic kiss.

“Oh – mmm – yeah, just –uh –like that, lover. So good.” Thranduil let his head roll back again. Bard watched him with reverence as Thranduil bit at his bottom lip and let his eyes fall shut.

“I want to make my pretty doll come.” Bard was stroking Thranduil’s cock fast now, kissing and biting at his neck and chest and nipples. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of Thranduil’s skin. “How’s this?”

“Oh god, you bastard. I won’t last another second if you do that.”

“I know you won’t,” Bard grinned, “Come for me, doll.” The sound of Thranduil letting out a shuddery moan told Bard that Thranduil was close. “Come now. Yeah, that’s right, pretty doll, I’m fucking you, just the way you like it…” He caught Thranduil’s nipple in his mouth and sucked on it.

“Ohh – oh, fuck yeah. Thranduil’s fingers gripped Bard’s back, his hips stuttering along to the rhythm of Bard’s hand. His body suddenly tightened and he babbled sounds of praise as Bard milked the orgasm from him.

“Oh, yes, doll, like that.” Bard watched in amazement as Thranduil released upon himself. It was probably the most erotic thing Bard had ever seen. He quickly devoured Thranduil’s lips in an all-consuming kiss. “So beautiful, so gorgeous,” he whispered between kisses.

“You’re amazing.”

“Mm, we’re amazing.” Bard whispered. “We’re us now.”

Thranduil smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

“So do I.”

After a few more minutes of kissing and caressing, Thranduil slid out of bed.

“Take off your clothes and get under the covers. I’ll be back soon, just want to wash quickly.” He told Bard as he headed towards the bathroom.

Bard smirked and began pulling off his pants. “Okay, doll. I’ll be here.”

Thranduil tied up his hair and stepped into the shower. It didn’t take him long to wash; before he knew it he was drying himself off in front of the mirror. He grimaced as he cleaned and put ointment on his stitches. He tried not to think about why he had them. Then, he made his way out of the bathroom and back over to the bed where Bard was nestled under the covers, appearing to be half-asleep.

Bard stirred when Thranduil switched off the lamp and crawled under the covers.

A feeling of pure contentment washed over him as Bard pulled him close and wrapped his strong arms around Thranduil’s waist, intertwining their fingers. Thranduil exhaled and melted into Bard’s side. The sound of Bard’s breathing was calming and it lulled Thranduil into a deep, peaceful sleep.

***

Thranduil stiffened when he felt the heat of a body lying next to him, but he quickly relaxed as he recalled the previous night. He was with Bard. Bard was here in bed with him.

He couldn’t help but feel good; this was the happiest he had been in years. The way Bard had come into his life so unexpectedly was nothing short of a miracle. But of course, Thranduil felt guilty. Should he really allow himself to be happy? Was it normal to fall for someone so soon after a traumatic event, or was there something seriously wrong with him? He tried to shake off those thoughts; it wasn’t good to think negatively, he didn’t want to sabotage himself. He deserved to be happy, and so did Bard.

Fuck it, he was going to savor it.

He rolled over to face Bard, yawning and stretching in the process. His yawn quickly morphed into a smile when he took in the sight of his…lover. God, he couldn’t believe it, Bard was actually his – his boyfriend. Seeing Bard sleeping next to him made him feel like the luckiest person on the face of the earth.

Bard was asleep on his back, so Thranduil snuggled up to Bard’s side, becoming all too aware of how naked they both were. Bard’s arm tightened around Thranduil, pulling him close. Thranduil rested his head on Bard’s chest with a content sigh. Cuddling like this was such an amazing feeling, it was something Thranduil had been craving for so long – just to feel safe, warm and secure in the presence of another person.

He draped his arm over Bard’s torso and relaxed into the warm embrace, placing a kiss over Bard’s heart.

He drifted in and out of sleep, and when he awoke again he checked the clock. It was just past nine o’clock. That was fine; both Bard and Thranduil could use the extra sleep.

Thranduil propped himself up on an elbow and pressed a tender kiss on Bard’s cheek. He looked so peaceful while he was sleeping. Thranduil watched him for a moment, tracing lazy patterns over his chest. Everything about this situation felt surreal – like he was trapped inside an abstract painting, never wanting to escape. His life was still chaos, but with Bard by his side it was a beautiful chaos.

He had an idea. He shuffled over and got out of the bed. He slipped on his black silk robe and padded quietly over to his bookshelf. There he found one of his sketchbooks, then fished a pen from the dresser and sat on the ottoman at the end of the bed. He needed to immortalize this moment. He flipped open his sketchbook to a blank page and started sketching out the lines that would come to form Bard’s face, his chest, his arms – one resting gently upon his abdomen and the other outstretched onto the bed where Thranduil had been lying – all cocooned in a nest of sheets.  

Thranduil cast a penetrating gaze upon Bard’s resting form, memorizing every angle of his lover’s body, from the way the muscles twitched and flexed beneath his skin to the slight expression of contentment upon his face.

He kept his head down as he sketched, allowing his eyes to glaze over as his hand moved precisely over the paper, almost as if in a trance. He could see, clearly, the image of Bard when he closed his eyes, so vivid, so alive. Caught up in his trance, he barely registered Bard’s voice echoing in the stillness of the room.

“Doll…”

Thranduil looked up, catching Bard’s eyes. Bard smiled, brushing stray hairs out of his face.

“Good morning,” Thranduil said, smiling back. He looked back to his sketchbook to add one final detail, then signed and dated it, and set it aside.

“Morning,” Bard yawned, rolling over onto his side. “What’re you doing?”

Thranduil grinned. “Oh, just sketching.” He crawled back onto the bed, noticing the way Bard’s eyes roved over his body, widening when Thranduil’s robe began slipping off his shoulders.

“Sketching what?” Bard asked, holding his arms out as Thranduil shuffled alongside him.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You look so peaceful when you’re asleep.”

“Can I see it?”

“Later,” Thranduil dismissed. He wasn’t shy about showing Bard the drawing, but now that Bard was awake, he wanted to try to keep him in bed as long as he could.

“No,” Bard drawled. “Want to see it now, doll.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Thranduil chuckled, nuzzling Bard’s neck.

Bard made a huffing sound. “Well, maybe I’ll just have to get up and look at it myself if you won’t show me.”

“Let’s see you try.” Thranduil challenged. He flung a leg and an arm around Bard, successfully pinning him down.

“Oh, doll wants to wrestle? No fair, I haven’t got clothes on.”

“Neither do I.”

“You’ve got that silk robe…”

“It’s barely fastened; you could get it off in one move!”

Bard grinned. “You like silky things, don’t you?”

“I do, and you like them on me.”

“I do,” Bard said, trying to wriggle from Thranduil’s grip. “Now let me go, you big cat!”

“Mmm, no. I should’ve warned you; I get very clingy in the morning.” Thranduil tightened his hold, resting his head firmly on Bard’s chest.

“I like when you’re clingy, but can’t you be clingy after I look at your drawing? I want to see how ridiculous I look.”

“You’re calling my drawing ridiculous?” Thranduil feigned a horror-stricken gasp. “How dare you.”

“No, no, never. Your drawing skills are top notch, Thran. But my modeling skills are shit.”

“Lies, you’re a gorgeous model, especially when you’re unaware you’re even modeling.”

“You didn’t draw me naked, did you?” Bard made a self-deprecating sound. Thranduil was really going to have to do something about Bard’s lack of confidence; it was sad that someone as handsome as Bard didn’t see himself the same way Thranduil did. 

“I could’ve, but I didn’t. You’re under the covers from the waist down.”

“Thank the gods. You’re the only one here who can get away with being drawn in the nude.”

Thranduil snorted. “Stop putting yourself down. You’re fucking hot, so just accept it.” He pressed a kiss on Bard’s pectoral, rubbing his fingers down Bard’s ribs, finally easing his arms and legs from their lock.

Bard took that opportunity to roll over, pinning Thranduil down onto his back. He laughed victoriously and stuck out his tongue at Thranduil.

“Oh, hell no!” Thranduil squealed. “There’s no way I’m letting you escape!” He grabbed Bard’s arms, but Bard managed to weasel his way out of Thranduil’s reach, the covers flying around him as he shifted quickly.

Thranduil hummed at the sight of Bard naked and struggling, forgetting why he even cared so much about keeping Bard in the bed in the first place.

Right, the drawing.

Actually, Thranduil didn’t care if Bard saw the sketch; really he just wanted Bard to stay in bed so they could hold each other and keep living in their own little bubble for a while longer.

He exhaled and nestled back into the pillows, watching Bard scramble to get to his sketchbook as fast as possible. Thranduil smiled when Bard picked up the sketchbook. His eyes widened, whether in shock or appreciation, Thranduil could not be sure, but it was a much welcomed reaction.

“Oh, my god, Thran. I don’t look like this; it’s amazing, but you took your artistic liberties a little far.”

“I did no such thing. You do look like that. You don’t know how you look when you’re sleeping, so you can’t judge. Silly.”

“You even got my phoenix in there and everything… So talented, but you did make me look better than I do in real life.”

“Da Vinci made Lisa Gherardini, the woman in the Mona Lisa, look better than she did in real life. Most of the artists back then were commissioned to do portraits of really unattractive, inbred royals, so they had to be nice and make them look better. I, on the other hand, was lucky enough to have a beautiful model.” Thranduil smiled when Bard shook his head in embarrassment.

“Oh, stop, you.”

“It’s the truth. I could’ve made you look different if I wanted, but I prefer you as you are.”

Bard spread his arms wide. “Like this?”

“Exactly like that. Naked in my chamber.”

“Chamber…” Bard chuckled.

“Come here.” Thranduil tilted his head, patting a hand on the empty space on the bed beside him. “I’m cold without you.”

“Well, I can’t let you get cold, how would I live with myself?” Bard teased, padding back to the bed lazily. He slid under the covers and wrapped his arms around Thranduil. The warmth felt so good. Thranduil could easily drift off to sleep again, but he knew he should probably get up and start on breakfast.

Just a few more minutes. He was too comfortable to move.

“How long do I get you all to myself today?” Bard asked after peppering a trail of kisses down Thranduil’s cheek.

“As long as you want.” He cupped Bard’s face, then ran a hand through all that messy hair.

Bard sighed, closing his eyes. “I could stay here with you all day. When is Haldir bringing Legolas home?”

Shit. Thranduil had become so preoccupied with the feeling of being alone with Bard that he had almost forgotten that Legolas would eventually have to come home from Hal’s house. He couldn’t leave his son there all day. That wouldn’t be fair to Hal, or to Legolas. And truth be told, Thranduil did want to spend some time doing something fun with his son this weekend. He just knew it was going to be hard to pull himself out of his perfect fantasy here with Bard.

“I’m not sure, probably this afternoon. I’ll have to call Hal once we get up.”

Thranduil nestled closer to Bard; he enjoyed living in this fairy tale. Maybe one day Legolas would grow to like Bard and then his fairy tale would include all of them, Bard’s kids as well. While stroking Bard’s arm, he absently wondered how Bard’s children would react to him. Would they like him, hate him, be indifferent? Or would they be completely appalled that their father had fallen for such a damaged mess of a human being?

“Such a pretty doll.” Bard’s words drew Thranduil out of his thoughts, and a hand stroked his hair softly. “Your hair is a nest.”

“Look who’s talking. Looks like a bird took up residence in your hair.” Thranduil teased, ruffling Bard’s hair.

“I blame you and your powers of seduction.”

Thranduil chuckled and kissed Bard on the lips. “Do you want me to brush out the knots?” He asked, reaching for the brush on the night stand.

“Sure, but only if you’ll let me brush yours in return.”

“I am your doll, so that means you can brush it if you’d like.” Thranduil grabbed the brush from the night stand, positioning himself behind Bard. He carded his fingers through Bard’s curls, detangling as much as he could before going in with the brush.

He brushed gently, easing the brush through the tangles, making sure not to pull too hard. He brushed until Bard’s hair was smooth and free of knots, then he ran his fingers through the soft bouncy curls, savoring the way it felt to have a handful of his lover’s hair.

“There,” he said, pulling playfully at the ends of Bard’s hair. “All soft and smooth now.”

“Thanks, doll. Does it look like an afro? Tilda always says my hair looks like an afro if I brush it.” Bard laughed.

“That’s cute. It did kinda get a bit…puffy.”

“That’s what happens when you brush curls. Just gotta wet it and it will be fine.”

“Turn around so I can see.” Thranduil grinned at Bard when he turned around. It looked a lot funnier from the front. “It’s a very adorable afro.”

“Now it’s my turn.”

Thranduil sat facing away from Bard and crossed his legs. “Okay, I’m ready. Be gentle.”

“Always.” Bard’s hands twined into his hair very delicately. Chills went up Thranduil’s spine when Bard’s finger grazed his scalp, gently drawing each finger through the lengths of his hair, all the way to the ends.

Thranduil leaned into the touch, surprised at how nice it felt to have someone tend to him like this. Had anyone ever brushed his hair before? He couldn’t recall. Emilia may have done it in the past, but he didn’t remember it to be anywhere near as erotic or sensual as this. He was putty in Bard’s hands, literally. The deeper Bard’s touches grew, the more Thranduil melted. Finally, the brush ran through his hair, leaving his body tingling.

“That feels nice,” he purred.

“It’s already so silky, it doesn’t even need to be brushed. But I won’t stop; I’m enjoying this too much.”

“Very relaxing.” Thranduil slouched back, his shoulders coming into contact with Bard’s chest.

He was quickly enveloped in a tight hug. Kisses were pressed all over his neck as Bard collected Thranduil’s hair and pulled it over one shoulder. Bard exhaled and proceeded to kiss the back of Thranduil’s neck. God, Thranduil could get used to be treated so well.

“Thank you, love.”

“You’re welcome, my beautiful doll.”

Bard rubbed his hands up and down Thranduil’s arm, squeezing once before he slid off the bed. Thranduil watched him as he collected his clothes from the floor, looking over his shoulder as he padded towards the bathroom.

“You can shower if you want, there are towels in there.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. Go for it. I’ll call Hal while you’re showering.”

“Sounds good, be back soon.” Bard made a kissy face before closing the bathroom door.

Thranduil smiled at Bard’s playfulness and unplugged his mobile. First, he sent Hal a text, just to make sure his friend was awake before calling.

[To: Hal] 9:44am – Morning, princess. You awake?

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long for Hal to respond. His phone vibrated in his hands, causing him to almost drop it on his face. Of course Hal would call him back instead of sending a text.

“Hey,” Thranduil answered.

“Princess? C’mon, Thran. I’m a queen!” Hal said. His voice sounded muffled, like he had Thranduil on speaker phone.

“What’re you doing?” Thranduil asked. He could hear clattering in the background.

“Oh, just baking. You know me.”

“Baking? It’s not even ten o’clock yet.”

“Oh, pish posh. Christmas is fast approaching, and we all know you’re not going to bake anything, so that leaves the treat-making to me.”

“Is Legolas up yet?”

“Still sleeping. I was thinking of taking him to the mall today so we could get your Christmas present.”

“You don’t need to get me anything, Hal.”

“Oh, not from me. The little leaf wants to get something for you! So I figured I’d be the good Uncle and take him to the mall so he could pick something out.”

“Don’t spend a lot of money.”

“Oh, pfft. I’ll spend as much as I see fit. So…are you going to tell me how last night went? OH! Is he still there? Did he sleep in your bed? What did you do?!”

“I knew this was coming.”

“Just feed my curiosity, Thran, please. Did you…sleep with him?”

“I called because I wanted to know when you were planning on dropping Legolas off.”

“Don’t evade the question!”

“After lunch? Around three? Before dinner? Give me a time.”

“So we don’t come home to you and Bard in a compromising situation, am I right?”

“You’re impossible. Just tell me when, Hal.”

“Fine, fine. We are gonna go to the mall after I clean up the kitchen, which should be around noon…give us a few hours at the mall and we should be back around three, three-thirty? That give you enough alone time with Mr. Hunky Mechanic?”

“Sounds good. Text when you’re on the way. Thanks, Hal. Bye!”

“Wait, Thr--”

Thranduil chuckled and hung up the phone. He stretched, jumped out of bed and tightened his robe.

He felt better than he had in ages.

Time to go make breakfast and figure out how he wanted to spend the rest of the day with Bard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets hope this isn't just pink cloud syndrome for Thran....


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the people who still read this, I know there are probably not many of you, but it means a lot to me that you take the time out of your day to read my story. Sorry for the wait, I had to take a break. But here it is.

Bard closed the bathroom door gingerly. He looked around, finally able to take in the sight before him. Last night he had been too distracted to marvel at Thranduil’s luxurious bathroom. But now that his head was somewhat clear, he let his eyes wander. Marble floors, a large soaker tub – probably with massage jets, by the looks of it – floor length mirror beside the shower, and yes, the shower itself. It was a two person shower; something Bard had never witnessed before. The only time he’d ever seen anything like it was on HGTV. It was nothing Bard could ever even dream of affording, nor would it serve him any purpose. And who needs a place to sit in the shower? What kind of tiles were those? They looked expensive.

He didn’t let himself ponder too long, not wanting to make Thranduil wait on him. He opened the glass door of the shower and stepped in. No frosted glass, no design or pattern, no privacy if anyone else were to enter the bathroom while you were in the shower. Bard’s house didn’t even have a shower enclosure. All they had were bathtubs that doubled as showers. With curtains. No fancy glass.

He turned on the water, trying to find some sort of body wash. God, Thranduil had a lot of products. None that Bard had ever seen before. Where was the Irish Spring bar soap? Not here. He picked up a bottle, read the label and saw that it was hair conditioner, so he set it back down. Luckily, the next bottle he picked up was body wash. Orange liquid in a clear bottle with a black label on it, called _‘The Olive Branch’_. He sniffed it and grinned. This was Thranduil’s scent.

Bard washed quickly, enjoying the fragrance of the body wash. Then he found some shampoo and poured out a very stingy amount into the palm of his hand. The damned stuff was purple! Bard worried for a second that it must have some sort of hair dye in it that would mess with the colour of his hair, but that didn’t make sense. Thranduil’s hair was fine; it wasn’t purple. So he went ahead and lathered the purple liquid into his hair. After rinsing out the shampoo, Bard picked up the bottle of conditioner. He had actually never used conditioner before. He always got the 2-in-1 shampoos. They saved time. But he figured today he would treat himself to something he’d never before tried. His hair felt extremely soft when he washed out the conditioner.

Once he was completely rinsed off, he got out of the shower, dried himself thoroughly with a large, soft towel, and then brushed his teeth with the toothbrush Thranduil had given him last night. He dressed in the same clothes he had on yesterday. His hair was still soaked, dripping on his shoulders and trickling down his back, so he towel dried it as best he could, hung the towel on the rack and made his way back out to Thranduil’s bedroom.

Bard smiled when he saw Thranduil spread out on his back like a starfish with his head hanging off the edge of the bed. His hair was so long, the ends were grazing the floor. His eyes were closed as he absently braided sections of his hair and then ran his fingers through the messy plaits to remove them. Bard was glad Thranduil still had his silk robe on; the sight of Thranduil naked in such a position would be far too erotic to resist.

“Hey,” Thranduil said, rolling over onto his stomach. He propped himself up on his elbows, with his chin resting in the palms of his hands and then looked Bard up and down. “Good shower?”

“Yeah, very nice,” Bard replied, making his way over to stand beside the bed. “That’s one hell of a shower you’ve got. Two shower heads – never seen anything like that before, except on TV.

Thranduil snorted and slid off the bed. “That’s for when you get to know me better and I let you shower with me.” He walked past Bard, running a finger along Bard’s chest.

“Oh? I’ve never showered with anyone before.”

“Pretty soon we’ll change that.” Thranduil smirked over his shoulder. “My turn. I need to wash my hair.”

“Do you want me to wait here?”

“You can stay here, or go downstairs if you want. Up to you.”

“Can I look through your sketch book?” Bard blurted. He really wanted to see more of Thranduil’s drawings, but was unsure how Thranduil would respond to his request.

Thranduil smiled from the bathroom door. “Sure. There’s not much in that sketch book anyway. You can snoop through my underwear, too. God knows what you’d find.” Thranduil winked at Bard before closing the bathroom door.

Snoop through Thranduil’s underwear? Bard would never do such a thing, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about it. He bet Thranduil had a crazy assortment of underwear. What kinds of lacy treasures did he have hidden away? Black lace and silk looked divine on him, but what about white? God, Thranduil would look like such a pure, ethereal creature in white lace. Bard hoped Thranduil had white lingerie and that he would one day be lucky enough to witness it for himself. What about a deep, dark red? Thranduil could play the role of a naughty and mischievous devil. Did he have horns and a pitchfork to go along with the outfit?

Oh lord, what was Bard thinking? He was supposed to be looking at Thranduil’s sketches, not fantasizing about Thranduil in lingerie, role playing different scenarios! Angels and devils and naughty sex slaves… No! Bard pushed the thought from his mind, picked up the sketch book and flipped to the first page.

Nothing on the first page, so Bard turned to the next.

Ah, it was a caricaturized drawing of Thranduil’s son holding up a leaf the size of his head, massive blue eyes staring at the leaf in wonder. Hal was the subject on the next page, drawn in purple, pink and blue pen, with an outrageous look of shock on his face. The next few pages were filled with stylized lettering; Legolas’ name, Thranduil’s name, and then a whole page dedicated to Thranduil’s signature. Then there was a page containing only the word _‘fuck’_ , written over and over in different lettering of various sizes. Bard let out a small gasp when he turned the page to the next drawing. It was a self portrait of sorts – the person was no doubt Thranduil, only with a completely different clothing style. He was leaning against a brick wall, wearing a long black trench coat, tight pants that resembled leather and huge combat boots with over a dozen straps going up the side. But the thing that drew Bard’s attention the most was the dark eyeliner around Thranduil’s pale eyes. It gave him a feral yet distant expression. The black studded collar around his neck was a nice addition as well. And the piercings! Ears, lip, nose, cheeks; all were pierced. And while it did look good, Bard couldn’t possibly imagine Thranduil with a bunch of facial piercings. That face was just too pretty to mess up with metal. The one in the nose was nice, though, Bard had to admit.

Bard probably looked at that drawing for too long, thinking about what it would be like if Thranduil dressed like a goth. It really did suit him. Bard noticed that Thranduil had a few piercings in his ears last night when they were close, but he hadn’t thought of it until now. He would be sure to get a better look once Thranduil was done in the shower. He smiled to himself and then flipped the page, his breath catching once again.

Sketches of Bard. From the bar. They were dated the day after Bard and Thranduil had first met that night in the middle of November. One of Bard with his head down, grimacing at his phone, another one of him nursing a drink with a forlorn expression in his eyes. It was heartwarming to see these drawings. Thranduil had been thinking about him since the first time they ever saw each other. Bard had made an impression without even doing anything at all. That made him feel good; the connection he had felt back then wasn’t just one sided, it was mutual.

He flipped the page to the most recent picture of himself – the one from this morning. He studied it again, taking in the details Thranduil added. The curve of Bard’s fingers, the way his hair fell upon the pillow, the outline of his tattoo…Thranduil captured it all with such beauty. He closed the book, set it on the ottoman and decided he would make the bed. It was the least he could do.

When Thranduil reappeared he had a towel wrapped around his head in the style of a turban, and another towel tied around his waist.

“Mm, I’m feeling fresh now.” Thranduil announced, a slight bounce in his step as he approached. “You made the bed? That’s nice of you, thank you.”

“Of course, doll.”

“Did you peruse my underwear drawer as well?”

“Nah. I’d rather see them on you than in the drawer.”

“Oh, tsk! One day…” Thranduil chuckled. “For now, let me dress and then we can get breakfast.” He went into the large walk-in closet to get dressed out of Bard’s view, and when he made his way back out he was wearing a loose forest green sweater and black fleece leggings with thick fuzzy socks. “What would you like to eat?”

“Hmm,” Bard thought about it for a second, but he was too indecisive to choose. He would let Thranduil decide. “Whatever you’d like. What’s your favourite?”

“I like French Toast. Do you?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s been years since I’ve had it.”

“Well then, French Toast it is. I make the best, better than Hal, but don’t tell him that.” Thranduil grinned. “Let’s go.”

They made their way down stairs and into the kitchen. Bard followed closely behind Thranduil, not sure if he should just sit down or help with the food preparation. “What can I do, doll?”

“You can choose the tea. That cupboard there.” Thranduil pointed to the cupboard on the left of the fridge. Bard remembered seeing the overwhelming selection of loose leaf tea from last weekend. He opened the cupboard and looked inside. Too many to choose from! He wanted something with caffeine but didn’t know what any of these kinds of tea had in them.

“What’s this, _Chocolate Rocket_?” Bard asked, holding up a pouch of tea.

“Oh, that one is good. It’s highly caffeinated, and tastes like chocolate and raspberries.” Thranduil said, getting eggs and milk from the fridge.

“That’s perfect then.” Bard conceded. He set the pouch of tea on the counter and made his way to the sink to fill up the kettle. He plugged it in and watched while Thranduil cracked eggs into a bowl and mixed in a bit of milk and a few shakes of cinnamon.

“You need the steeper?”

“That clear thing you make the tea in?”

“Yeah,” Thranduil said, abandoning his whisking to pull the steeper from the cupboard and hand it to Bard. “Just put three tablespoons of the tea in there and then fill it up when the water’s ready.”

“Okay, thanks doll. I’m clueless when it comes to fancy tea.”

“You’ll catch on.” Thranduil smiled.

They worked together in the kitchen with an unexpected ease, moving around each other comfortably. Bard steeped the tea, added some agave and waited for it to brew, while Thranduil dunked the bread into his egg mixture and put it in a buttery frying pan to cook. Soon, the entire kitchen was filled with the pleasant aroma of cinnamon. Bard liked the smell; it reminded him of his childhood when his mom would be in the kitchen every weekend cooking something delicious.

The tea was poured into mugs and set aside to cool while Thranduil finished off the French toast with Bard at his side, eager to learn everything Thranduil was doing. Bard helped set the table as Thranduil plated the French toast.

“What do you want on it?”

“Butter, lots of butter, and brown sugar and…maybe more cinnamon.”

“Okay, let me grab all that and then we can eat.”

They dressed their French toast with their favourite toppings, settled in at the table and began to eat. Bard ate slowly, savoring every bite of such a decadent breakfast treat; it wasn’t every day he got to have such a delicious breakfast with such a beautiful doll. He smiled at Thranduil as they ate, praising him often for how amazing the food tasted, which earned him a bashful response and a wave of the hand from Thranduil. It was adorable how Thranduil didn’t think anything of cooking breakfast for Bard, like it wasn’t something out of the ordinary. For Bard, it meant more than Thranduil would ever know. No one had ever taken care of him so well.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Thranduil began while sipping languidly on his tea, “I called Hal and he said he was going to bring Legolas home around three. They’re going to the mall to do some Christmas shopping.”

“That’s good. So we have some time together still.” Bard flashed Thranduil a smile, taking another bite of his French toast. “I haven’t even started Christmas shopping yet.”

“I haven’t either. I still need to decorate the house, too. But Hal usually comes over for that, and ends up taking the reins.” Thranduil laughed.

“That sounds like him. I’ve gotta go get a tree soon.”

“Oh, you get a real one?”

“Yeah. It’s sort of become a tradition to take the kids out to the tree farm every year to pick out a tree.”

“That sounds nice. A real tree is much nicer than a fake one. Legolas always wants me to get a real one, but it seems like a lot of trouble, so I just go with the fake tree.”

“You should come out to the tree farm…”

“With you and your kids?”

“Ah, maybe that would be a little weird.”

Thranduil nodded. “Yeah, probably a bit too much, too soon.”

“It would be nice to have you there, though.” Bard mused.

“I know. I’m sure I would enjoy it very much. I really have no idea how to pick a tree…and getting it home might be a problem. I’d have to strap it on the roof of my car, and knowing me, I’d likely fuck up my car.”

“I have a truck. Maybe we could go next weekend…” Bard suggested, only realizing how forward his idea sounded after speaking it aloud. “I mean, if you want to…you can just use your fake tree—”

“Yeah? You and me?”

“Uh- well, yeah…Legolas, too…and maybe Hal if he’d like to join.”

“I’d like that. I haven’t had a real tree since I was a child.”

“It’s nice, makes the house feel more festive. So, if you want to, we can try to work something out so we can go. I’ll probably see if the kids want to go out there tomorrow so we can get ours. Then I’ll be able to scout it out to make sure there are still good trees left, and if there are then we can make the trip out there maybe next weekend?”

“Yeah, I’d really like that. I think Legolas would enjoy it, too.”

“He will be okay with me there?”

“I think so. He’s very friendly with people; it just takes a little time for him to open up. But once he’s comfortable, he never stops talking. He’s a little chatterbox.”

“Sounds like my Tilda.” Bard chuckled.

“Ah, they will make a good pair then. But, Hal… I don’t know if it’s wise to invite him, you might come to regret it.” Thranduil snickered.

“Why? He seems like a nice guy and a good friend.” Bard wondered if having Hal there would make things awkward, or if he would ask pesky questions that neither Bard nor Thranduil wanted to answer. From the way Thranduil spoke about Hal, it seemed like he enjoyed knowing personal details.

“While all of that is true, it’s also true that Hal is loud and obnoxious when he’s excited, and he’s generally always excited. He also likes to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Bard nodded, catching Thranduil’s meaning. “Is it really that bad?”

“Oh, the Spanish Inquisition ain’t got nothin’ on Hal. He’ll interrogate you and invade your privacy like it’s his job.”

“So he’s just a big old town gossip then.”

“Precisely.”

“I suppose he’s asked you questions about me…” Bard feigned a wince.

“Of course. Not that I’d ever tell him anything. He can keep dreaming.”

Bard snorted. “Okay, we’ll leave Hal behind then.”

“I think it’s for the best.” Thranduil agreed. “Maybe your Tilda would like to come along.”

“She probably would. She loves going out to the tree farm. Choosing a tree and getting to cut it down is one of the things she most enjoys about the holidays. I’ll ask her if she wants to come with us.”

“Hopefully she and Legolas will get along. They’re around the same age, so I think they will have fun together.”

“I’m sure they will, but I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

When breakfast was finished, they cleaned up together and Thranduil brewed another pot of tea. Bard happily accepted another cup. He leaned against the counter and smiled at Thranduil. He still couldn’t believe what they had done last night and that they were now officially a couple. Even though being with Thranduil felt so comfortable, Bard was still in awe of the entire situation. It was so easy to be with Thranduil, it felt so natural. Life for Bard hadn’t felt this normal in a very long time. And he couldn’t remember the last time he felt such warmth in his chest, such smitten feelings for another person. He hadn’t even felt this way about Madison when they had first started dating. It was an entirely new feeling, but one that Bard was very eager to embrace.

Thranduil ran a hand through his damp hair and looked Bard up and down. “You know you look gorgeous when you lean like that,” Thranduil smiled, pulling his hair over his shoulder.

Bard sank lower on his elbows, intensifying the arch of his back. “You mean like this?”

“Yeah. God, you don’t even know what you do to me.”

“Well, I certainly know what you do to me, you fucker.”

Thranduil chuckled. “You’re the fucker, looking so sexy and rugged with your hair in your eyes.”

Bard snorted. “Never before has my look been described as sexy or rugged.”

“I only speak the truth, lover. You are the epitome of sexy.”

“Well, thanks, doll.” Bard smiled, genuinely touched by Thranduil’s compliment. “I have to say, those lacy underwear you had on last night were pretty sexy…”

“Oh?” Thranduil perked up. “You liked them?”

“God, they were just…perfect. Especially on you.”

“I’m glad you liked them. I wore them for you.”

“Oh yeah? So you don’t normally wear panties?”

“Not all the time. But I do like to dress up on occasion.” Thranduil preened, tilting his head and running his fingers through the length of his hair.

“Mmm, you like dressing up?” Bard asked curiously.

“Yeah, I was worried you would think it was weird.”

“No, not weird. Very, very hot, but never weird.” Bard grinned, thinking about what kinds of lingerie Thranduil liked to dress up in.

Thranduil offered a grin of his own. “Good. So, uh, what would you like to do now? We still have a few hours together…”

“Well, I admit, there’s something you told me yesterday that I’ve been thinking about…”

“What?”

“Your music.”

“My music? What about it?”

“Do you have a violin? Or a piano? When are you going to show me your skills?” Bard asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Why was he so nervous about asking Thranduil to play music for him? It really shouldn’t be that big a deal, but somehow it felt like a very intimate request.

“I’ll show you after you play the guitar for me.” Thranduil smirked, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers. Bard’s eyes lingered on those long, elegant fingers for a few seconds, imagining them dancing along the keys of the piano, or sliding up and down the neck of a violin.

“I will show you, I promise. But my guitar is at home and severely out of tune. And I think one of the strings is broken, too.”

“I have a guitar here…”

“Really? Can you play? I wouldn’t be surprised.” Bard chuckled. God, it seemed like Thranduil could do everything.

“I can strum along. I’m not a guitar virtuoso. But, um, Emilia used to play. It’s her guitar. I can get it if you’d like…”

“As much as I’m dying to show you my skills,” Bard said sarcastically, then sobered, “I don’t know how I’d feel playing your wife’s guitar…”

“I don’t mind. I’m sure she’d be happy to know it’s not just sitting there collecting dust. And it has all its strings; you just might have to tune it. Can you do it by ear?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t done that in a while.”

“I have a piano in the basement; you can use that to help you tune it.”

“Are you sure you want me to play for you? It might be a total turn off.”

“Oh, pft! Nothing you do is a turn off.” Thranduil smiled.

“I mean, you’re classically trained. I just learned in my garage.”

“No lessons?”

“Nah, self taught.”

“Well, shit, that’s even more of a turn on.”

Bard cracked a smile. “You sure? Will you play, too?”

“I guess so. It’s been a while though, so don’t laugh.”

“I would never.”

“Okay, let’s go to the basement then.” Thranduil said, taking a final sip of his tea and setting the mug in the sink. Bard gulped down the rest of his and sat it in the sink as well.

He followed Thranduil down the stairs to the basement into a room he hadn’t yet seen. It appeared to be a music room, or recreation room of sorts. There was a pool table off to the side, and a baby grand piano against the far wall. Beside the piano was the guitar. Thranduil waltzed over to the guitar and picked it up, handing it to Bard. Bard took the guitar, feeling a bit strange holding onto the instrument that was once played by Thranduil’s late wife.

In the corner of the room were two armchairs, so Bard took a seat in one while Thranduil sat at the piano bench. Bard strummed the guitar experimentally. It was badly out of tune, so he asked Thranduil to play an E on the piano to help him tune it properly. Thranduil did so, and before too long the guitar was back in tune and ready to be played.

Bard took a deep breath and plucked a few strings. He played a few scales to warm up, very aware of Thranduil watching him.

“What do you want me to play?” he asked.

“Whatever you want. Maybe do Fur Elise.”

“Will you play along? Do you know it?”

“Of course. You start and I’ll join in.” Thranduil said, cracking his fingers.

Bard began playing, letting his fingers instinctively take over. Once he was a few bars into the song, Thranduil joined in on the piano. With Thranduil playing beside him, Bard was barely aware of what he was doing; he just listened intently to Thranduil, watching those long fingers graze effortlessly over the piano keys. Bard grinned wide, thoroughly enjoying the harmonious sound created by the piano and guitar. He and Thranduil were actually making music together, and it sounded amazing! Near the bridge of the song, Bard stopped because he couldn’t remember how to play that particular part. So he watched Thranduil, who had become consumed with the music. His eyes were closed and his body moved along with the melody of the song. Suddenly, Thranduil turned his head towards Bard, fingers still moving wildly.

“Why’d you stop?” Thranduil asked.

“I lost track.” Bard said, still entranced with the music Thranduil was making.

Thranduil stopped, and smiled gently, turning around on the bench so he was facing Bard. “You’re very good, you know.”

“Thanks.” Bard said, his cheeks heating up. He knew he was probably blushing like a fool, but he couldn’t help it. No one he cared about had ever complimented his guitar skills. “And you’re absolutely amazing.”

“Thank you.” Thranduil smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “I think we sounded good together.”

“I think so, too. That was fun. Too bad I forgot how the song ended. I blame you though.”

“Oh? You blame me?”

“Yeah, your fingers had me in a trance.” Bard admitted, looking down at the guitar.

“Yours are quite talented as well.” Thranduil smirked, standing up. He took a few steps towards Bard and leaned down to run his hands through Bard’s hair. Bard sighed contently, looking up at Thranduil.

“Come here.” Bard murmured, reaching up to trace his fingers along Thranduil’s jaw. Then, he trailed his fingers beneath Thranduil’s chin and pulled him closer. Thranduil made a small whimpering sound and closed the gap between them, locking lips with Bard as his hands wound into the hair at the nape of Bard’s neck.

Thranduil bit at Bard’s bottom lip before he pulled away, drawing a moan from Bard. “You’re delicious.” Thranduil said, brushing back Bard’s hair before strolling to other side of the room. “So, you want to see me play the violin?”

“Mmm, yes please.” Bard said. Feeling more confident in his abilities, he strummed a few random chords as Thranduil opened up a black case which housed his violin.

The instrument was pulled out and placed on the floor as Thranduil retrieved the bow, which looked like it had extremely loose hairs. Then he fished out a small rectangular block of something that Bard was not familiar with. Thranduil picked up the violin, the bow and the small block and padded over to sit on the piano bench.

“Okay,” Thranduil announced, “first I have to tighten the bow.” He proceeded to do so, while Bard watched with interest. Once the bow was tightened, Thranduil picked up the little rectangular block and rubbed it along the length of the bow hairs.

“What’s that?” Bard asked, leaning closer, still absently plucking at the guitar.

“This is rosin. It helps make the hairs sticky so it will grip the strings and sound better, but if you put too much it can sound scratchy.” Thranduil ran the rosin over the hairs one last time and then set it aside. Then he picked up the violin with his left hand and gripped the bow with his right. “I probably need to tune this, let’s see…”

He tucked the violin between his left shoulder and his chin and ran the bow along the strings. Wow, what a sound! Bard had never heard a violin in person before. It sounded a lot louder than he had imagined. Thranduil cringed, and set the bow down as he began to twist the pegs to tune the strings. He took a minute or two to get the violin tuned and when he was satisfied, he exhaled softly.

“When was the last time you played?” Bard asked.

“Over a year,” Thranduil said, making a face. “It’s been a while. What should I play?”

Bard took a second to answer as he was preoccupied with the way Thranduil’s fingers held onto the bow so elegantly. “Um, what’s your favourite?”

“I probably won’t be able to play it as good as I used to, but I like Four Seasons by Vivaldi, especially Summer. I do my own version.”

“I’m not sure I know that song, but play it anyway.”

“I could play the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ theme song, everyone knows that.” Thranduil suggested.

“Whatever you’d like, doll.” Bard nodded. He didn’t really care what Thranduil played, he was just so eager to hear it and he knew it would sound amazing either way.

“Okay,” Thranduil said, standing and shaking out his hair, still holding the violin beneath his chin. “I’ll do Pirates.”

Thranduil closed his eyes tilted his head into the violin and slowly placed the bow along the strings. And then, he began. The music hit Bard and his eyes widened. Of course he recognized this song. And it sounded even better coming from Thranduil’s violin than it ever did in the movie. As the lively sounds filled the room, Bard’s jaw dropped, leaving his mouth agape. Holy shit, Thranduil was good – actually no, he was better than good; he was extremely talented. Bard couldn’t believe it. He’d never met anyone who played an instrument with such natural skill, such effortless grace. It must’ve taken Thranduil years of practice to hone his technique. Thranduil’s body began swaying with the music, the bow moving rapidly back and forth as his fingers danced along the strings so quickly Bard could barely believe that these sounds were being created by a human being. How did his fingers move so fast? And the way they moved to create a vibrating sound was truly amazing! Maybe Thranduil was an alien; it was the only explanation.

Bard probably sat there with his jaw hanging open throughout the entire song. He was transfixed. His eyes remained glued to the instrument that Thranduil so delicately mastered, in awe of how talented his doll was. When the song ended, Thranduil opened his eyes and offered a small bow.

“And there you go.” He said, setting the violin and bow onto the bench.

Bard finally closed his mouth and looked at Thranduil. “Holy mother of god, doll! You’re amazing! I am beyond impressed.” He really didn’t know what else to say, still so shocked by what he had just heard.

“Aw, thanks. You liked it?” Thranduil asked in a bashful tone, cheeks redder than usual.

“Hell yes. It was wonderful. I’ve never heard a violin in person before. Sounded so good.”

“Thank you, Bard. That’s sweet of you. I guess I haven’t lost it.”

“I don’t think you can ever truly lose all those years of training. It’s engrained in you.”

“It is.” Thranduil agreed. “Especially that song. That’s the one I used to play on the streets.”

“You used to busk?” Bard questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, back in college. I got some cash out of it, and it was good practice. And pretty fun, too.”

“That’s so cool. So you’re a performer, then.”

“I guess so. As are you, playing in a band.” Thranduil grinned. “You know what would be fun?”

“What?”

“If we busked together,” Thranduil began, absently braiding sections of his hair. “If we went into town and found a busy street corner, maybe near that hot dog stand, and just played our own version of songs.” He smiled, “that would be fun.”

“It would!” Bard smiled back with excitement. “I’ve never done anything like that before, but I’m down.”

“Really? You’d be interested?”

“Of course. What could be better than making music with such a beautiful doll?”

“I can think of a few things,” Thranduil smirked, “but I’ll leave that up to your imagination.” He made a kissy face and laughed.

Bard snorted. “You’re so silly.”

“I am, but so are you.”

“True. So, I think we should do this. When spring comes around.” Bard felt absolutely exuberant. He was actually excited about something. He actually wanted to go out on the streets and make music with his boyfriend. God, Madison would’ve never approved of such behavior. But there was no reason to think of her now. He had Thranduil and thankfully Thranduil was nothing like Madison. Nothing at all.

“Yeah, let’s do it. We’ll have to put together a set list and get a busking license, but it will be worth it.”

Bard nodded enthusiastically. How amazing was this? He was actually going to be able to get back into playing the guitar! He could embrace his hobbies instead of pushing them aside like he had done for so many years.

“Thanks, doll.”

“For what?”

“For getting me to play for you, for playing for me, and for suggesting the whole busking thing. Maybe I can actually get back to having hobbies again.”

“Yes, everyone needs to take the time to do the things they enjoy. What else do you like doing besides guitar and archery?”

“Well, this is something that caused much uproar in my house in the past, but it has always been my passion…”

“What is it?”

“Photography.” Bard concluded.

“Oh!” Thranduil exclaimed. “I thought you said you knew nothing about art. Photography is an art.”

“In a way, I guess. But it’s not art like your art. I just capture things that already exist; you create something from nothing, all in your head. That’s real art.

Thranduil snorted and shook his head. “No way. Photography is real art. It gives you the opportunity to view real life in different ways, it makes you question things and see things in ways you normally wouldn’t. It can make the mundane into something beautiful. That’s art.”

Bard considered that for a moment and then nodded. As much as he didn’t want to agree, he knew Thranduil was right. He just never liked to think of his photography as art. It seemed pretentious to think such a thing. “I guess you’re right,” he finally said. “Although it seems strange to think of myself as an artist.”

“I think everyone has the capacity to be an artist, given the right environment and the proper motivation.” Thranduil said, picking up the violin again and raising an eyebrow. “Wanna do a duet?”

Bard grinned. “Sure, what song?”

“You know Kashmir by Led Zeppelin?” Thranduil asked, quickly playing the main riff on the violin and then regarding Bard with a raised brow.

“Of course I know that one. Would be better with an electric guitar, but I’ll make it work.”

“Oooh, do you have an electric?”

“Yup. I do.”

“Next time you’ll have to bring it.” Thranduil said, drawing Bard’s smile. He liked hearing the words _‘next time’_. They would be doing this again; this was only the first of many times to come. That idea left a warm, fluttery feeling in his chest. He would be spending a lot more time with Thranduil now that they were a couple. Reminding himself that he was, in fact, dating Thranduil, made the fluttery feeling grow all the more intense.

Thranduil began playing the song and Bard quickly joined in. Before too long, they were laughing and finding new songs to play, each one more outrageous than the last. Thranduil even played the _Friends_ theme song and an Irish drinking song – that one, Bard particularly enjoyed. Time flew by, and before they knew it, it was time for Bard to go back home. Thranduil seemed just as reluctant to stop playing as Bard was. He hoped Thranduil had had just as much fun as he did. It was nice to be able to let loose and have a laugh, which in turn, seemed to help bring him and Thranduil closer together.

They made their way upstairs and after Bard had collected his coat and slipped on his boots, he turned toward Thranduil with a smile. He was caught off guard when Thranduil pushed him into the wall and captured his lips in a heated kiss. What a perfect ending to such a wonderful date. Bard kissed back with abandon, twining his fingers into Thranduil’s hair.

“Thanks for such a good time, doll.” Bard whispered, kissing Thranduil’s nose before pulling away.

“Mmm,” Thranduil hummed, eyes closed. “Anytime, lover. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I know. I wish I could spend all day with you. But duty calls.” Bard sighed. “I’ll text you later on tonight, okay?”

“Okay, I look forward to it.” Thranduil said, helping Bard into his coat before opening the door. “I had a really good time with you.”

“So did I.” He kissed Thranduil one last time before he took a step outside onto the porch. “You’re mine, now. Don’t forget that.”

That brought a warm smile to Thranduil’s face. “And you’re mine. Drive safe.”

“I will, doll. Have a good day, and I’ll talk to you soon.” Bard headed down the steps and waved to Thranduil once he reached his car.

“Thanks, enjoy the rest of your day!” Thranduil called out, waving back and blowing a kiss.

Bard smiled, holding up his hand, miming like he caught the kiss then held his enclosed fist to his chest. He got into his car, wishing he didn’t have to leave Thranduil so soon.

With a sigh, he backed out of the driveway and headed home.

 

***

After Bard had gone home, Thranduil found himself in the sitting room, pacing back and forth. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that he was alone. He’d had so much fun playing music with Bard that the time seemed to fly by much too quickly. He wanted more time with Bard! Too bad he didn’t have the courage to accompany Bard to the tree farm with his children tomorrow. But his decision was more out of respect for Bard’s children than out of cowardice. It would be too soon, so it was probably for the best that they’d decided against the idea. Pushing a new relationship on their children was more than likely to cause some turmoil. Best to give it time instead of rushing into things blindly.

Thranduil wanted to spend the day with Legolas anyway. It had been a while since they had done something together. He stopped pacing and opened the weather app on his mobile. He’d heard that tomorrow they were supposed to get the first big snowfall of the year. And, indeed, the weather app confirmed that over a foot of snow was due for Sunday. Maybe he and Legolas could build a fort in the backyard, or make a snowman…

While he considered tomorrow’s plans, he kept himself busy by tidying the house. It really didn’t need to be cleaned, but Thranduil found it soothing – moving around, putting things in order; it all helped keep him calm. Hal would be over with Legolas in half an hour, but knowing Hal, he would be early – probably hoping to catch Bard on his way out. But of course Thranduil knew better, which is precisely why he had made sure Bard left at least half an hour before Hal’s expected time of arrival.  Hal was notorious for showing up sometimes an hour before he was supposed to. Thranduil chalked it up to Hal’s gossipy nature, always wanting to catch people in compromising situations or get lucky enough to witness something entertaining. Getting the inside scoop on a juicy story made Hal flail, even more than he usually did. He enjoyed talking about other people – never his clients, though, or himself – he preferred talking about neighbors, the people he saw at the grocery store or his favourite restaurant, coworkers, his ex-boyfriends, and all his ex’s new lovers. Gossip about the latter two usually resulted in hour-long rants with tons of over-gesticulation. Thranduil was used to it by now, and to be honest, he enjoyed it. Hal’s rants were reality show worthy at best and trashy soap opera at worst. And even though Thranduil found it entertaining, he did not want Bard to experience it.

As he was wiping down the kitchen counter, the doorbell rang. He glanced at the clock – of course Hal was early – and padded to the door. He looked through the peephole before unlocking the door, just to make sure it was actually Hal and Legolas and not someone else.

“Hey,” Thranduil greeted, opening the door.

“Ada!” Legolas shrieked, bounding inside and giving Thranduil a big hug.

“Welcome home little leaf; did you have a good time with Uncle Hal?”

“Yes, we went shopping!”

“And got Starbucks for lunch,” Hal said, stepping into the entrance and removing his coat.

“We spent a lot of money,” piped Legolas.

“You better not have, Hal!” Thranduil smacked Hal on the shoulder.

Hal snorted. “Nah, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“I’m not fucking kidding,” Thranduil said under his breath, thinking that Legolas was well out of earshot.

“Ada!” Legolas gasped, rushing over towards them once he had hung up his coat. “Don’t say the F word!!”

“Yeah, Thran! Language!” Hal cupped his hands over Legolas’s ears as they made their way into the living room. Legolas continued on into the kitchen, leaving Thranduil and Hal alone.

“Sorry, sorry. I just don’t want you spending a ton of money on me, that’s all.”

“Pft! You’ll spend just as much on me, right?”

“I haven’t even started Christmas shopping yet.”

“You know what I want.”

“What you want and what you’re going to get are two very different things…”

“Those adorable rose gold cupcake cufflinks?” Hal wiggled his eyebrows.

Thranduil chuckled. “That’s so gaudy, Hal. I thought you had better taste than that.”

“I can make them look good. Or the crown ones!”

“The crown ones aren’t as tacky, but still...”

“Shh! I rock the cuff links, Thran, and you know it!”

Thranduil shook his head. Sometimes Hal wore the strangest things, but somehow he always made everything look good.

“Ada! I’m hungry! You need to do food shopping, there’s nothing good in here!” Legolas called out from the kitchen.

“Didn’t he just eat?” Thranduil asked Hal.

“He’s like a human trash compactor. We didn’t eat that much though, just a Panini and we shared a muffin.”

“Have some strawberries, Legs!” Thranduil called back to his son.

“So,” Hal began, taking a seat on the couch, crossing his legs. “Tomorrow we’re supposed to get that snow storm, and I was thinking we should do something, get your ass outta the house.”

“Rude. But yeah, I was thinking that, too.” Thranduil said.

“We should decorate this place! We could get the tree out; Legs said he was excited to start decorating for Christmas, but he was worried that you didn’t want to do Christmas this year…”

Thranduil sighed. “I want to do Christmas. I wish he wouldn’t worry about me.”

“Then let’s put up the tree, get into the holiday spirit!”

“I was thinking I’d get a real tree this year…”

“Yeah? You never get a real tree because, _‘wah, it’s too much trouble’_.” Hal said, putting on a high-pitched, whiny voice.

“I don’t sound like that,” Thranduil scoffed.

“Yes you do.”

“Well, I’m going to the tree farm, probably next weekend,” Thranduil stated, and then added, “…with Bard.”

That quickly got Hal’s attention. “Ooooh! Tell me!”

“I just told you.”

“No! Are you going to tell me what you did last night?”

“No, I’m going to tell you to keep your nose out of my business.”

Hal made a sad face. “C’mon, indulge me!”

Of course Hal wanted to know. Thranduil was actually surprised that he hadn’t asked sooner. “We had dinner, and talked…nothing worth flailing about.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“C’mon, Thran! Air out the laundry, you know you want to!”

“You want me to, I don’t want to.”

A perverse grin crept onto Hal’s face. “Did you see _it_?”

Thranduil shook his head in exasperation. He knew exactly what Hal was asking. “See what?”

“You know… Don’t play dumb!”

“This is none of your business.” Thranduil groaned. Sure, he had indulged Hal about past flings, but that was only because none of them ever meant anything to him. Bard meant a lot to him, so he would never give out any details. And even though Hal knew this, it didn’t stop him from questioning and pestering Thranduil to the point of annoyance.

“That’s a yes.” Hal laughed.

“You’re disgusting. I am not having this conversation.”

“Did you sleep with him?” Hal asked, ignoring what Thranduil had just said.

“In what way? We shared a bed, yes. But nothing happened…” Surely that would be enough to satisfy Hal’s curiosity.

“So you just laid there and kept your hands to yourself? I doubt it!” Hal snorted.

Just then Legolas trotted into the living room with a bowl of strawberries and an inquisitive look on his face, as if he has overheard the entire conversation. God, Thranduil hoped not. “You doubt what, Uncle Hal?”

“Nothing. He doubts his sanity,” Thranduil cut in before Hal could say anything.

“Yeah, I doubt that, too,” Legolas giggled. “Uncle Hal is crazy.”

“Hey!”

Legolas laughed at the mock-offended noise Hal made and then turned to his father. “Did you have fun with your friend last night, Ada?”

“Yes, I did,” Thranduil replied, pressing a kiss on Legolas’s head. “Would you like to decorate the house tomorrow?”

“Oh, really? Yes! With Uncle Hal, too?”

“Of course,” Hal answered. “I’ve got the music and the treats!”

“We could put the fake tree in the basement…or maybe somewhere upstairs…” Thranduil mused.

“What are we putting in here, then?”

“We’re going to get a real tree this year.”

“Oh, yes!” Legolas exclaimed. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I think we’ll get it next weekend, but we can find another spot for the fake one if you still want to decorate it.”

“In my room! We should put it in my room, Ada! Yeah? Can we?”

“Of course, that’s a great idea!” Thranduil agreed, grabbing a strawberry from Legolas’s bowl and popping it in his mouth. He was glad to see Legolas in such a good mood, so different from the withdrawn, nervous child he was only a few weeks ago.

The three of them spent the next hour and a half pulling boxes of decorations out of the storage room in the basement. The box with the tree was hauled upstairs along with various tree decorations – glass balls, tinsel, and other handmade ornaments they had accumulated over the years. Thranduil swallowed hard when he saw Emilia’s stain glass decorations. Every year the same emotions overcame him, and even though he knew it was coming, he was powerless to stop it.

“Oh, mom’s ornaments!” Legolas shouted.

“Yeah,” Thranduil acknowledged, carrying the box upstairs with Legolas following closely behind, little arms full with garland for the fireplace. “You want to put them on the tree in your room?”

“Mmhmm,” Legolas nodded. “We need to get Sven and Gunther out of the garage, too! They were mom’s favourite.”

Thranduil smiled at his son’s enthusiasm. Legolas loved those glass deer his mother had made when he was only a baby. “I’ll get them out tomorrow.”

The box with Emilia’s ornaments was taken upstairs, and when Thranduil returned to the kitchen Haldir and Legolas were sitting on the counter silently sipping away at what smelled like hot cocoa.

“Got some for you, Thran,” Hal said, sliding off the counter. “Off, leaf, no bums on the counter or Ada will get mad,” he whispered to Legolas, who giggled and jumped down.

“Thanks, is it candy cane?” Thranduil asked, sniffing at the beverage.

“Yup. Leggy’s favourite.”

“I like the one with the orange and frothy milk, too. But that’s not very festive.” Legolas said, blowing on his drink before taking another sip.

Thranduil perched on the stool, sipping at his hot cocoa slowly. Now that all the decorations were out, he knew he had to tell Hal that he didn’t need him to stay here any longer. Hal had stayed for the week to make sure Thranduil was okay, and now that Thranduil was feeling more like himself he wanted to get back to his normal life and let Hal get back to his.

They finished their beverages in relative silence, aside from Hal praising himself and moaning with almost every sip he took. Once the mugs were in the dishwasher and Legolas was in the living room sorting through decorations, Thranduil pulled Hal aside so he could speak to him.

“What’s up?” Hal asked, sensing that Thranduil had something important to say.

“I – uh, I think I’ll be fine now, on my own, I mean. You don’t have to stay anymore, you can go home…” Did that sound rude? Thranduil didn’t want to come across as an ungrateful asshole, but he needed to let Hal know how he felt, and that he was okay. “I do appreciate you staying and all, but I don’t want to be a burden, and –”

Hal’s sharp sigh cut Thranduil off and he began pacing the kitchen. “Are you sure? You’re not a burden, Thran. Not at all.”

“I’m fine, Hal. Really.”

“Ugh. You know I worry about you…”

“I know, and I wish you wouldn’t. I’m okay, I swear.”

“Do you still want to do something tomorrow? We’ve got all the decorations out, so we could put everything up tomorrow, or go out, or do some baking!” Hal’s eyes lit up and his face became animated as he mentioned baking. “C’mon, baking is therapeutic!”

“Are you saying I need therapy?”

“No, but you know what I mean! Gosh, so defensive, Thran! You just need to have a little fun.”

“Okay, we can go out and then finish the decorating tomorrow, because I’m too exhausted to do it all now, but by Monday I need to get back to my commission, so I need you out of the house.”

“Good! Keep yourself busy. And don’t worry, I have clients to see, so I’ll be out of your hair.” Hal said. “Just don’t pull any shit.”

“What shit would I pull?”

Hal sobered, leaning forward on the counter. “You remember when Emilia died and you just kinda…”

“I know, I know,” Thranduil interrupted before Hal had a chance to say any more.

“Well, you scared me. And I don’t want you to go there again.”

“I won’t. Nobody died, Hal. It’s not that big a deal.”

“But it is, Thran. You just do a stellar job at hiding it.”

Thranduil exhaled. “To be honest, I actually feel great and I don’t want to wallow in self pity. I just want to get back to my work and back to my routine. It’s severely out of whack. And you know how I hate it when my routine gets fucked with.”

“Yeah, typical Taurus, I know.”

“Typical Gemini, can’t keep that huge mouth shut.” Thranduil cracked a smile, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

“Hey! Without my winning personality you’d be bored as hell!”

“I have Bard now,” Thranduil grinned.

“Are you two an item now? Like officially? Can I refer to him as your boyfriend?”

“I guess so, yes.”

“Oh my god! I knew it. I’m so happy; he’s perfect for you. He’s kind and generous and easy on the eyes. And he treats you so well, which is exactly what you need. Complete opposite of fuckface.”

Thranduil made a disgusted face. “Don’t bring him up. That topic is off limits from now on. I don’t want to dwell on that crap; I just want to move on.”

Hal nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something but he stopped. “Okay. I won’t bring it up.”

For Thranduil’s sake, he really hoped Hal would keep his word and abandon all talk of Galion.

Reluctantly, Hal collected the few things that he had left at Thranduil’s house and made his way home, promising that he would be back over early in the morning so they could take Legolas out to play in the snow, and continue on with the Christmas decorating. Thranduil bid him farewell and once Hal was gone, he was able to let out a breath of relief, and go find his son so he could make dinner for the two of them.

 

***

When Bard arrived home there was nothing to do, nothing that would take his mind off the time he spent with Thranduil. He couldn’t stop thinking about the wonderful music they made together, or the things they had done the previous night in bed. The memories replayed in his head over and over.

Sigrid, Bain and Tilda would be at his parents’ house until tomorrow morning, so he didn’t have to worry about making a big supper. Without his children in the house, he felt bored; there was no one to pester, no fights to break up, no one to help with homework, and no one to talk to. Without the distraction, all Bard could think about was Thranduil – his elegant hands, his soft silky hair, those long legs that wrapped around Bard’s waist so perfectly, the way his pretty face contorted into such pure, raw pleasure when he climaxed and those fucking sinful black lace panties that he wore so proudly. God, it was impossible not to think of; Thranduil was everything Bard had ever wanted and now he was lucky enough to be able to call Thranduil his. It all felt like a dream, like it wasn’t real and sooner or later he would wake up alone in his bed. But it was real, and Bard had never been happier.

To stop himself from pacing, Bard put the kettle on to boil so he could make himself a cup of tea. Nothing with caffeine, though – his brain was already on overdrive, and he didn’t need the extra stimulation. If he didn’t stop thinking about Thranduil naked in bed, he would likely have an unwanted erection to deal with. And if that happened, he would probably end up touching himself and be unsatisfied because it could never compare to the way Thranduil had touched him.

_Stop thinking about the way he touched you! Clean up the house. Laundry needs to be done._

Bard jumped when the kettle began screeching at him. He poured the hot water into his favourite mug and added a bag of chamomile green tea. Hopefully it would help calm his mind. To keep himself busy, he tidied the main floor of the house. He swept, dusted, vacuumed, put shoes and coats back in their place, and then he turned on the dishwasher and sat down long enough to finish his cup of tea. After that, he was off again, taking the laundry to the basement. He made his way to the second floor to tidy up his bedroom and bathroom. He poked his head into Sigrid’s room, glad to see that it wasn’t a complete mess. Bain’s room on the other hand was a pig sty, but Bard wasn’t going to clean it. Bain would have to do that himself when he returned home tomorrow. Tilda’s room was neat, apart from a few articles of clothing and toys on her floor. Bard hung up her clothes and put her toys away, then dusted her room.

Once he was done cleaning up, Bard found himself out in the garage. He needed to keep his mind occupied, so he began tinkering away at his motorcycle. After an hour or so, Bard was too hungry to continue so he made his way to the kitchen to make himself something for supper. There wasn’t much in the house, so he opted for a ham sandwich. He would have to do the groceries tomorrow. Maybe the kids would want to join him after their visit to the tree farm. Thinking of the tree farm brought his thoughts back to Thranduil. Was it too soon to text him? No, he didn’t think it was. So after he finished his food and washed the plate, he fetched his mobile and took a seat on the couch.

He opened up his messages and typed a quick text to Thranduil.

[To: T] 6:44pm – hey pretty doll. i miss you already

Bard ignored how sappy his message was and hit the send button anyway. He stretched out on the couch and turned on the television. Within a few minutes, his phone dinged.

[From: T] 6:50pm – Hey sexy lover. I miss you, too. What’re you up to?

[To: T] 6:50pm – not much, just lying on the couch. Cleaned up the house and worked on my bike for a bit. What about you?

[From: T] 6:51pm – Oooo you worked on your bike? That image will stay with me the rest of the night ;) I got out some xmas decorations and finally got rid of Hal a few mins ago. Thank god lol

[To: T] 6:51pm – lol, so now you’re free! I’ve gotta get out the Christmas stuff tomorrow after the tree farm

[From: T] 6:52pm – oh, send me pictures of the tree farm so I can see what it looks like. I’m probably more excited about going there than I should be

[To: T] 6:52pm – I’m excited, too. Mostly just because I get to spend time with you. :) And I’ll send you pics tomorrow.

[From: T] 6:53pm – I admit, that’s why I’m excited, too. I always enjoy being with you. <3 Oh, don’t forget to ask Tilda if she wants to come with us. What about Sigrid and Bain, will they be offended for not getting invited?

[To: T] 6:54pm – yeah, I’ll ask her when she gets home tomorrow morning. I don’t think Sig and Bain will mind. It might be too much having all of them there, and I don’t know how Bain will respond to….us

[From: T] 6:54pm – Ah, that’s true. Don’t want to make him uncomfortable. How do you think Sigrid will respond to us?

[To: T] 6:55pm – I have a feeling she’ll be fine with it. She’s been asking me about my ‘dates’ since the first time we went out for coffee. I think she’s caught on lol

[From: T] 6:55pm – lol a very perceptive girl, indeed. I hope they like me. I don’t want them to think I’m trying to intrude on their life, or steal you away, or anything like that…

[To: T] 6:56pm – eventually I’ll have to sit them down and explain to them that we’re together. Sig and Til will probably be okay, but Bain is the wildcard. It might take him some time

[From: T] 6:57pm – That’s understandable. Just give him some time. Anyway, I gotta go now, Legs is getting into Christmas ornaments and he’s making a mess, so I need to go supervise!

[To: T] 6:57pm – lol okay, doll. Have a good night. I’ll talk to you tomorrow

[From: T] 6:58pm – Thanks, lover. I’ll be thinking of you in bed tonight ;) sleep well and sweet dreams xx

[To: T] 6:58pm – Mmm I’ll be doing the same. Goodnight my beautiful Thran <3

[From: T] 6:58pm – Goodnight my perfect lover <3

Bard smiled and put his phone away. He watched TV for a little while longer. Then, he went back out to the garage to do some more repairs on his motorcycle, thinking of Thranduil’s beautiful face the entire time.

God, Bard was one lucky man.

 

***

The next morning came too soon.

Thranduil got up and looked out the window, happy to see that there was finally snow on the ground. Legolas would be ecstatic. He went to grab a quick shower and got dressed before heading downstairs.

Legolas woke up shortly after and the two of them had breakfast together before Hal showed up decked out in a big puffy black coat.

“Is that gore-tex?” Thranduil chuckled, referencing an episode of _Seinfeld_.

“Gore-tex; for when it’s scary cold!” Hal laughed and shrugged off his coat. Then, he went upstairs with Legolas to help him get ready for their fun in the snow.

After the breakfast dishes were tidied up, Thranduil went to look for something to wear out in the snow. It had been a while since he heard any noise from upstairs. Was Hal even helping Legolas get ready? What were they doing? Hal better not be snooping in Thranduil’s bedroom.

“Are you getting ready, leaf? We’re gonna go out soon!” Thranduil called from the entrance, where he was rummaging through a box of winter hats he’d pulled from the closet. The box contained a variety of hats – most of them Legolas’s throughout the years – but he couldn’t find one that seemed appropriate for himself.

“Leaf?!” He called out again, louder this time.

“He’s in his room going through his drawers like a little hurricane,” Hal said, appearing at the foot of the stairs.

“What’s he looking for?”

“God knows. Probably a hat that fits, same as you.”

“All these hats are ridiculous,” Thranduil scoffed, putting a white hat with a big fluffy pompom on his head. “How does this look?”

“Atrocious, disastrous…disgusting…”

Thranduil groaned. “I know. I need a plain black hat. I thought I had one last year. All of these are Leggy’s old hats.” Thranduil pulled the white hat off and tucked it back into the box.

“You have enough hair that you don’t even need a hat. Do lions need hats? No, so neither do you.” Hal grinned.

“You’re comparing me to a lion now?”

“You’ve got the mane.”

“I guess. Maybe I don’t need a hat. It won’t be that bad.”

Hal offered a nod and went off in the direction of the kitchen. Thranduil shoved the box back into the depths of the closet and trotted upstairs to see the apparent hurricane his son had created. As he made his way to Legolas’s room, he wondered what Bard was doing right now. If he was getting his kids ready to go to the tree farm, if they got just as wound up as Legolas did…

“Legs, what’re you doing in here?” Thranduil asked, stepping into his son’s room.

Legolas sat on the floor in front of his dresser, each drawer opened with various articles of clothing spilling out. The boy grunted and threw his hands up in frustration. Thranduil chuckled, ignoring the mismatched socks on his son’s feet.

“I can’t find my hat!”

“Which one? There are tons downstairs…”

“No, those ones are stupid,” Legolas griped.

“Then which one are you looking for? Maybe I can help,” Thranduil offered, approaching Legolas, mindlessly folding and putting clothes back into the open drawers.

“Remember the one mom knit years ago? It used to be too big for me but now I think it will fit! I can’t find it anywhere!”

“The rainbow one with the ear flaps?”

“Yeah! Where is it?”

“I think we put that somewhere in your closet. In one of those boxes on the shelf.”

Legolas jumped up and ran towards his closet, looking up at the assortment of boxes on the top shelf.

“Why don’t you go get your teeth brushed while I find it, okay? And ask Uncle Hal to do your hair.”

“I already brushed my teeth, but I’ll ask Uncle Hal to braid my hair!” Legolas bounced out of his room.

Once Thranduil was alone, he let out a shaky exhale. It seemed Legolas had been thinking about his mother a lot lately, especially since they had dug up all the old Christmas decorations last night. Going through all their old things brought up memories, nostalgia – feelings Thranduil would rather not feel. It was impossible to tell how it all affected Legolas, and whether those emotions were good or bad was even harder to distinguish. Legolas seemed to react positively to the memory of his mother. Thranduil, on the other hand, tried not to entertain such thoughts. Thinking of Emilia – even the good memories – always left Thranduil feeling empty and wracked with inexplicable guilt. He’d relived the night of her death over and over in his head, so vivid it was that it actually caused him physical pain. The loss, the remorse, it was all too much. It was best to push those memories to the back of his mind. The memory of how it was his fault that she was dead…

_Stop. Just stop. Enough._

Emilia wouldn’t want Thranduil to feel guilty for her death. She would want him to be happy. She would be glad he had Bard in his life now. He was allowed to fall in love again. Love? Was it love yet? He wasn’t sure, but he was allowed to be happy at least. And Bard made him happy. For too long Thranduil had denied himself happiness, feeling as though he deserved to be punished for Emilia’s death, but she would want him to live his life, remembering her fondly, but ultimately move on.

He sighed and pulled down a box from the shelf to check what was inside. No rainbow hat. He pulled down another – only old toys. Behind the two boxes he had just moved was a tattered cardboard box that he could not recall seeing before. He recognized all the other boxes because he was the one who had put them there, and labeled each one with a large ‘L’. He stood on his toes and finally managed to get the strange box down. He held it gingerly with the tips of his fingers; it seemed dirty and he instinctively tried to touch it the least amount possible. What could be in here? And how did it get in Legolas’s closet? An uneasy feeling crept into his chest.

He set the box down on the floor and kneeled in front of it, pulling at the flaps to get it open. His expression changed as he got a look at what was inside, and the uneasy feeling intensified.

A bunch of plastic bags. Some large, and some very tiny with little designs on them. There were items inside some of the larger bags but it was hard to make out what they were. What the hell? He picked up one of the bags between his fingers and when the bag unrolled enough that he could see the contents, he gasped and dropped it.

A fucking pipe! It looked used – all brown and burnt, as if something nasty had been smoked out of it. Thranduil clasped both hands over his mouth.

_Galion!_

For a moment he froze, not knowing what to think or do, but finally he found his voice and called out to Hal.

“Hal?!” Thranduil shouted, still sitting in front of the box. He gulped, his tongue suddenly feeling like an obstacle in his mouth. He could barely breathe. “Hal! Come here!” His heart pounded in his ears. Maybe this stuff – this drug paraphernalia – whatever it was, wasn’t really Galion’s, maybe Hal was just fucking with him.

_Don’t freak out. Stay calm._

“What?!” Hal came to a running stop at the doorway of the closet, looking at Thranduil with worried eyes. “What’s wrong? What’s that?”

Thranduil let out an uneven breath. “Galion!” He blurted. “A crack pipe. Is that what this is?” Thranduil pointed to the bag.

“What? No way. Thran— what the hell!” Hal exclaimed, lowering himself to Thranduil’s level so he could get a closer look at the bag. “No…”

“Tell me you put this in here to fuck with me.”

“Why would I do that?” Hal shook his head. “Oh my god, that’s really a crack pipe…”

All at once, a wave of nausea hit Thranduil like a ton of bricks. His hands grasped at his stomach and he swallowed hard. God, he was going to throw up! He felt the telltale watery feeling in his mouth.

“Hal…”

“This is definitely drug stuff, Thran.” Hal turned, standing slightly. He was still speaking but Thranduil could not make out what he was saying, it all sounded fuzzy, far away. Was he talking to Legolas?

_No. Don’t let Legolas see this._

“No. Leaf.” Thranduil mumbled, sensing the presence of his son outside the closet door. His vision was graying – how was Galion still able to affect him like this? How was it making him physically ill?

Hal appear at his side again, holding onto Thranduil’s shoulders. “Hey, Thran. We should put this somewhere safe.”

Thranduil blinked. “I can’t – I can’t believe he would stash this shit in Legolas’s closet. Like we’re the butt of some fucked up joke.”

“Here, get up.” Hal motioned for him to stand, but Thranduil didn’t move. “I expect no less from such a degenerate piece of shit.” Hal scoffed.

“We need to dispose of this…” Thranduil began, putting the plastic bag back into the box. I’m kind of curious what else is under these other bags. Are there actual drugs in here?”

“Ew, no. Thran, don’t touch it!”

“It’s probably diseased, I know.”

“Not only that, but this is evidence. You don’t want to get your fingerprints all over it.”

“Evidence? What do you expect me to do with it?”

“Tell the cops. They will do something.”

“It doesn’t prove anything, though.”

“It makes Galion look bad. He’s a drug addict and maybe he sells the stuff, too. Those little baggies are what they put the drugs in when they sell them…”

“I always suspected, but I could never be sure.”

“Do you think that’s actually a crack pipe?” Hal mused. “It could be for pot…”

“That’s not for pot, Hal. There’s no smell.”

“Right. So keep the box in the garage and inform the police. It’s something else to prove that he’s a criminal.”

“I guess so. I’ll have to talk to them eventually.” Thranduil groaned. That was one conversation he was not looking forward to.

“Tomorrow, Thran. Call as soon as you wake up. I’m serious.”

“I will, I will. And then I’ll have to talk about other shit, and I really don’t want to.”

“You want him to go to prison, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then suck it up, buttercup.”

Thranduil exhaled loudly. “I hate this.”

“I know. It’s uncomfortable, it sucks, but once you get it over with you’ll never have to deal with it again. We don’t want that trash out wandering the streets. You need to put him where he belongs.”

“You know I’ll probably have to go to court and give a testimony or some shit. All those people will be watching and scrutinizing. So embarrassing. It would be easier if I was a woman. Then they’d believe me. I bet he won’t even plead guilty and then it’s my word against his.”

“There’s enough evidence, Thran. You said he had video cameras in here, and that the cops took them. So there you go.”

“He’ll say it was a game, that I wanted it and it was just some BDSM thing. He’ll twist the whole story.”

“Bard witnessed it, didn’t he? He’d testify against Galion.”

“I don’t want to put that on him. He’s going through enough with his divorce.”

“He’ll do it for you, Thran. You won’t even have to ask. I can tell what kind of person he is.”

“I know he’d do it.” Thranduil sighed, shaking his head. “We shouldn’t even be talking about all this. We’re supposed to be having a good day. Let’s just put this box in the garage and go out. If I dwell on this too long I’ll end up sleeping the whole day.”

“Righto. Let me take this shit to the garage then. I’ll finish Leggy’s hair and you find his hat and then we can go, okay?”

“Yeah,” Thranduil said, finally standing up.

“Are you okay, Thran?”

Thranduil hummed, biting down hard on his tongue. “Just give me a minute, yeah?” He made his way out of the closet and headed towards his room, passing Legolas in the hall. He said nothing.

Hal was behind him with the box; Legolas spoke to Hal in a soft voice.

“What’s going on?” Legolas asked.

“Nothing Leaf, it’s alright. I’m going to get Sven and Gunther from the garage now. Ada will find your hat in a minute.”

Thranduil closed his bedroom door and padded into the bathroom. He sunk down in front of the toilet, feeling like he may throw up at any moment. There was only one thought in his head.

Galion had contaminated his entire house. No place was let unmarred. Every room, every crevice, every nook - it had all been tainted. Nothing was his anymore, it all belonged to Galion. Thranduil needed to get out. He needed to leave this house. It was no longer a sanctuary. It was contaminated, they must evacuate the premises.

It was time to put the house up for sale and start looking for a new place to live, somewhere where better memories could be created.

It was time for a fresh start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Will you...](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTfEPRCGDoc)


	17. Chapter 17

Sunday morning arrived quickly, and Bard woke up earlier than he probably should have. He had nothing to do but wait for his mother to drop off the children. He wasn’t sure if they even wanted to go to the tree farm today, but he hoped they would. It would be something fun to help distract them from the fact that Madison would be leaving town tomorrow. At the same time, her departure could result in the children not wanting to do anything but sit and dwell on the inevitable. Maybe they wouldn’t be in the mood to get the tree this year; maybe it would do nothing to cheer them up.

He made his breakfast robotically, poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table to eat. As he ate, he thought of how Thranduil called him his _perfect lover_. He couldn’t help but smile every time he thought about it. He never thought he could feel so happy in the midst of such chaos. His life was still far from ideal – the situation Madison had left him in took its toll on his nerves, having to deal with the children’s torrent emotions left him feeling guilty and exhausted, but at least he had one ray of sunshine in his life – his beautiful doll.

That comfort helped get him through the rest of the morning.

He checked online to make sure he was right about what time the tree farm opened, and then called his mother to find out what time the kids would be coming home. She told him that she would drop them off shortly – before noon. So they would have a lot of time to get their tree before the sun started to set.

After Bard washed his dishes and put them away, he went out into the garage to tinker a bit more on his motorcycle. He checked the chain tension and oil level and made sure all the lights were working, and before he knew it he heard the children’s voices coming from the driveway. He quickly set aside his tools and opened the garage door to greet them.

Tilda squealed when she saw him and ran towards him with open arms. Bard scooped her up, spun her around and gave her a big hug.

“Hi, honeybee!” Bard kissed her on the head. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yes, Da!” Tilda crooned, burying her face in Bard’s shoulder.

His mother was still in the car with her window down, speaking quietly to Bain as Sigrid fetched the last of her things from the back seat of the car. Once Sigrid had her bag slung over her shoulder, she waved goodbye to her grandmother and trotted over to Bard. Tilda squirmed out of his arms so he was able to give Sigrid a hug.

“Welcome back, Sig.”

“Thanks, Da!”

Finally, Bain came shuffling over, his bag on his back and a large garbage bag with something square inside it under one arm. It must have been a canvas; Bard recalled him saying he had an art project to work on. Bain struggled with his hold on what appeared to be a tool box – something he must have gotten from his grandparents house, as he did not have it before.

“Hey, Bain.” Bard greeted, holding out his hand and offering to carry the toolbox.

“Hey, Da.” Bain replied, letting Bard take the toolbox as they all made their way up the front steps.

Once they were in the house, it was a mad shuffle to get out of coats and boots, mitts and scarves. Sigrid plopped herself down onto the sofa and Tilda took a seat next to her sister. They mumbled something between themselves while Bain lingered near the door with Bard, who was taking his time organizing the boots.

“How was your visit with Nan and Bampi? Did you get to work on your art project?” Bard asked in an attempt to decipher his son’s mood.

“It was good, and it’s pretty much done. Just need to add some finishing touches.” Bain said.

And suddenly Bain’s arms were around Bard, squeezing him into a tight embrace. Was Bain actually hugging him? This was unexpected! Bard quickly wrapped his arms around Bain in return.

“Da, I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass lately.” Bain whispered, seemingly embarrassed by his apology.

Bard smiled, unsure of where this sudden change had come from, but happy about it nevertheless.

“It’s okay. I understand you’re going through a lot right now. Everything is well.” He rubbed Bain’s back soothingly.

“I know, but it’s not fair that I’ve treated you like crap. It’s not your fault that Ma left. That’s her choice; it had nothing to do with you. At least you’re still here for us.”

Who abducted the real Bain? Or had he truly had a change of heart? Bard smiled again, wider this time, truly astonished that his son was actually opening up to him and trying his best to be understanding about the situation they were all facing because of Madison’s decision.

“You know I’ll always be here. I won’t abandon you guys, ever.”

“I know. Thanks, Da.” Bain let go of Bard and kept his eyes downcast.

“Thanks for being understanding, kiddo. It’s good to have you back.”

Bain snorted. “I was never gone!”

“Only a little!” Tilda bellowed from the living room.

“Only a lot,” Sigrid piped.

“Oh, shush!” Bain groaned at his sisters’ protests. “I’m gonna take my stuff upstairs now.”

“Will you let me see your art project?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. No one has seen it yet, besides Nan.”

“He’s been hiding out in the basement working on it.” Tilda said, making her way out to the hallway where her father and brother were. “He won’t let any of us see it!”

“I’m not a very confident artist.” Bain said, cracking a smile. “Isn’t that the way most artists are? They’re very insecure. They don’t like to be judged. And I know you, Til, you’ll judge!” Bain grabbed the garbage bag that contained his canvas and headed to the stairs, sticking out his tongue at his little sister, who gave him the same treatment in return.

“She knows better than to do that,” Bard said. “None of us would judge, so if you change your mind, we’d be honored to see it.”

“Maybe.” Bain conceded, proceeding up the stairs.

“What’s this?” Bard called out after him, holding up the toolbox.

“Oh, Bampi gave that to me to keep all my paints and brushes in. I mean, I don’t have much, but it’s better than carrying it all around in a shoddy plastic bag!” Bain called back before disappearing up the stairs.

Bard set the box back down and finally made his way into the living room with Tilda glued to his leg.

“Da, Da, Da! Nan said you mentioned the tree farm! Are we really going today? Can we, can we? Please?” Tilda put on her cutest puppy face, sticking out her bottom lip and batting her eyelashes at Bard in hopes that he would say yes.

“Of course, honeybee! Today is the day.” Bard announced, drawing Tilda’s excited yelp. She bounced around, unable to contain her glee. “What about you, Sig? You in?”

“Yes, I’m in! This is our tradition. I would never miss it.” Sigrid grinned, getting up from the sofa. “I’ll go tell Bain. He’s in a better mood today, so I’m sure he’ll be in, too.”

“Good, good. You guys want lunch first?”

“We already ate,” Sigrid and Tilda replied.

Sigrid headed up the stairs and Tilda grabbed onto Bard’s hands, swinging them around.

“I am so, so, so excited, Da. I love the tree farm!”

Bard chuckled at Tilda’s endless enthusiasm. “I know you do, sweetness. It’s always been your favourite thing to do at Christmas time. Do you want to put up the decorations when we get home?”

“Yes, please! I want to be the one to pick the tree, and I want to help you cut it down, Da. That’s the best part.”

“Yes, you can help. Now go get ready! Put all your dirty clothes in the hamper so I can wash it, okay?”

Tilda nodded and ran up the stairs just as Sigrid reappeared.

“So Bain is on board. He gonna get ready now and so will I.”

“Alright, sounds good, darling. I guess I’ll get ready, too then.” Bard said, heading up the stairs behind his daughter.

Bain was rushing around, trying to find warm enough clothes to wear. It was colder than usual today, and the snow fell in heavy sheets upon the ground. Luckily, it wasn’t the slushy wet snow, but rather the soft fluffy stuff that didn’t leave the roads too difficult to drive on.

It took them longer than Bard had hoped to get organized, so he waited downstairs. He scrolled through his text messages from Thranduil, smiling fondly. No matter what Bard was doing, it was impossible not to think of Thranduil. What was his gorgeous doll doing right now? Maybe Bard could send one quick text.

[To: T] 12:22pm – Hey, doll. Hope you’re having a good day. We’re heading off to the tree farm shortly. Will send you pics <3

He put his phone in his pocket and finally all three children clambered down the stairs with their warmest clothing on.

“All ready,” they chorused, heading to the closet to get on their outerwear and boots.

Bard already had his boots and coat on, so he put on a hat and shoved his gloves into his pocket. He fished out the keys to his truck, and they headed out the door. He checked the back seat to make sure he had enough rope and bungee cords to tie down the tree, and a saw just in case they didn’t have any at the tree farm. They always had the proper tools to cut down the tree though. But Bard was always prepared. Better safe than sorry.

“Shot gun!” Bain yelled out, chortling at Sigrid’s groan.

Sigrid and Tilda piled into the back, Bain got into the passenger’s seat with a smug grin and Bard got into the driver’s seat, quickly turning on the heat. God, it was freezing out today! Good thing he had extra mittens in the car. And tissues for any runny noses. He put his cell phone into the center console and began backing out of the driveway.

On the way to the tree farm, Bain fiddled with the radio as Tilda sang along to any songs she knew. Sigrid stayed quiet for the most part, until Bard’s phone dinged and she jerked forward in her attempt to reach for it. Bain got to it first, though. He let out a loud wailing sound, drawing Bard’s attention away from the road.

“Calm down, you two!”

“Da, you got a text from T!” Bain cried out; batting at Sigrid’s grabbing hands.

“Let me see, Bain! I want to see what he said!”

“No, no. No one is reading my texts. Put that back!” Bard said in a frantic tone. Never before had he cared if the kids saw his texts, but he had no idea what kind of message Thranduil would send him. Thranduil may very well call him _lover_ , or end the message with a heart, and then what would the children think? Sigrid’s assumptions would be confirmed, Bain might go back to brooding, and Tilda…well Tilda would probably continue singing.   

Somehow between Bain’s chortling, Sigrid managed to get the phone from his hands, shouting in triumph.

“Ugh, Da! Why do you have a passcode on your phone? And why can’t you see an excerpt of the message before unlocking the phone like you can on mine?! C’mon, Da!”

Bard laughed. “This is why, silly girl! To frustrate you as much as I can! Now, put my phone back, we’re almost there.”

“Yay!” Tilda exclaimed.

“I wonder what he said…” Bain mused.

“It’s probably really mushy! Too much for you to handle, Bain!” Sigrid said, giggling.

Bain’s face twisted into disgust and he stuck out his tongue. “Ew, gross! On second thought, I don’t want to know what he said!”

“Good, now put it back. It’s too much for you to handle too, Sig. So, go on, put it back in the console.”

“Da!!!” Sigrid snorted in laughter. “We don’t need to know!” She put the phone back and exaggerated a cringe.

Bard shushed the kids, laughing along with them, hoping they hadn’t taken his comment too seriously. He didn’t want to plant any awkward ideas about him and Thranduil in their heads.

Maybe he would have to have a conversation with them soon about his relationship with Thranduil. Maybe they would be able to handle it…

For mid-day on a Sunday, the tree farm was quiet. Only three or four other cars were in the parking lot. Bard figured most people already had their trees. It was already the middle of December; they were a little later than usual this year.

The kids climbed out of the car and headed off to the little wooden building to sign in at the front desk and collect the proper tools to cut down the tree. Bard wasn’t in such a rush, so he took a moment to check the message Thranduil had sent him before catching up with the children.

[From: T] 12:34pm – hey, lover. I’m alright. Just dealing with shit. Have fun at the tree farm, I’ll be waiting for your pictures <3

Dealing with shit? What shit was Thranduil dealing with? Did it have something to do with what that fucker did to him? It probably did. Bard couldn’t think of what else Thranduil would consider to be ‘shit’. He didn’t think it was right to flat out ask Thranduil what was going on, but he did want to express his concern.

[To: T] 12:40pm – hope everything is okay, doll. I’m here if you need to talk. Pictures are coming soon

“Da?!?” The children called out, heads poking out of the building. “Are you coming?!”

“Yes, coming!” Bard tucked his phone back into his pocket and headed over to his children.

He snapped pictures of the building once they’d signed in and got their tree-cutting tools, and then took a few more pictures of the acres of plantation laid out before them. So many trees to choose from! Small ones, tall ones, short ones, fat ones, crooked ones, and even the classic Charlie Brown ones. Tilda had a soft spot for the trees that looked deformed or misshapen in some way, claiming she felt sorry for them because they never got picked. So she wanted to give them a good home for Christmas.

As they were perusing the selection of trees, Bard tried to be sneaky about checking his phone. Thranduil hadn’t texted him back, and now he began to worry if something was wrong. He wanted to be there for Thranduil, be as supportive as he could, but how could he do that if he didn’t even know what was going on? Maybe the shit Thranduil was dealing with was merely the Christmas decorating? No, it couldn’t be that. Thranduil would’ve said he was decorating.

“Are you talking to your boyfriend?” Sigrid’s voice startled him, causing him to nearly drop his phone in the snow.

“No, just, uh, checking messages.” Bard said, continuing to walk the aisles of trees, doing his best to hide the sheepish expression on his face. Was he really that easy to read?

“How is he, anyway?” Sigrid persisted, smiling at Bard as if she could read his every thought.

“Who?” Bard played dumb.

“You know who! Th-Thran, is it?”

“Okay, fine, you win.”

“I barely even had to try!” She giggled. “So, how’s he doing?”

“He’s good, I guess.”

“Did you see him while we were at Nan and Bampi’s over the weekend?”

“Sig…”

“It’s just a question, Da. I don’t even know the guy, but I can tell he makes you happy. So I’m not going to scold you about it. It’s not my place to do that anyway.”

“Sorry, darling. I don’t mean to get defensive. I just don’t want to put too much stress on you after all that you’ve been going through with your mother leaving, and—”

“No, it’s okay, Da. Really.” Sigrid assured him, touching his arm gently with her gloved hand.  “You deserve to be happy! We all do, and none of us would’ve been happy if Ma stayed around any longer.”

“You’re right, honey,” Bard agreed. It was true; Madison’s behavior towards the children was just as toxic as her behavior towards Bard. And although it was painful for them to lose their mother, at least they could all be happier now.

“I know I am, Da,” Sigrid flashed a cheeky grin before she headed off to find her brother and sister.

Bard was relieved that she was not taking her mother’s departure too personally. Unfortunately, Bain and Tilda may not see things with the same perspective as Sigrid. Before catching up with the children, Bard captured a few more artistic shots of the trees and sent them to Thranduil. He put his phone in his pocket when he heard Tilda call out to him. She must have found a tree.

Yes, Tilda had found a tree, claiming that it was perfect because it was a little deformed and looked like it needed a good home. Bard quickly set to, cutting it down and wrapping it securely with tarp and rope. Bain and Sigrid volunteered to haul it back to the car, so Bard pulled Tilda aside to ask her a very important question.

“Hey, honeybee,” he began, “so I was wondering if you’d want to come out here again next weekend…”

“Oh! Again? What for?”

“A friend of mine and his son never get a real tree for Christmas, but this year they want to, so I offered to bring them out. I thought maybe you’d like to come along to help them pick out a tree, since you’re the tree-picking expert.”

Tilda’s face lit up. “Of course, Da! I’d love to! How old is his son? Is he my age?”

“Yes, he’s a year older than you. I think you’ll get along with him.”

“Oh, yes! I’ll show him how to find the best tree and then we can help you cut it down. And maybe we can go into town to get some hot chocolate after! I’m sure he’d like that. I always do.”

Bard smiled. Tilda had always been the most enthusiastic of the bunch, so friendly and open to new people. He was glad she accepted the invitation so warmly – maybe she and Legolas would end up being good friends. That would make things easier if, and hopefully when, Bard’s relationship with Thranduil got more serious.

“That sounds like a great idea, honeybee.” Bard scooped Tilda up and trudged through the snow, catching up with Sigrid and Bain near the car.

The tree was strapped in the back of the truck and then they were off.

On the way home, Sigrid brought up something that Bard had seemingly forgotten about – his own birthday.

“So, Da. This Saturday is your birthday. I think we should do something this year...” She ventured, chewing on her lip in the back seat.

“Yeah, let’s go out for food!” Bain suggested.

“We could make something for Da at home,” Tilda added.

“Yeah, we can cook a nice meal for you, maybe make a cake,” Sigrid agreed with her sister.

“Why doesn’t anyone ever want to go out?”

“It’s too expensive, Bain! And we’re hardly going to let Da pay on his own birthday!”

“I’ll be happy with whatever you guys want to do, doesn’t have to be fancy,” Bard said. “It’s just a birthday.”

The children scoffed and finally decided that they would cook dinner for Bard on Saturday night, and that the meal and dessert would be a surprise so Bard would have to be out of the house while they prepared it. Bard was hesitant to let them take the reins in the kitchen, but he knew Sigrid was fully capable. She’d be able to handle it; it was a good way for her to gain some independence and build some much needed life skills.

When they got home, the tree was put up and they spent the rest of the afternoon decorating it.

 

***

After the ordeal on Sunday morning, Thranduil was reluctant to do anything but lay in bed, but thankfully Hal wouldn’t let him. They ended up going out in the front yard with Legolas and made a few snowmen. More than a few times Thranduil had to stop Hal from making a snow penis, which ended up causing a snowball war. And although Thranduil was stressing out, he did manage to have fun for a few hours.

After playing in the snow, Legolas went to take a shower and Hal helped Thranduil with the rest of the house decorations. For the most part, Hal took over and did all the work while Thranduil lounged on the couch sipping at a glass of Baileys.

“You know, it’s too early in the day to start drinking, Thran.” Hal commented while fastening the garland on the mantle.

“Says you.”

“Says most of the world.”

“I’ll have to make some glögg soon. Swedish tradition. Can’t let the ancestors down.” Thranduil said, ignoring the glare Hal shot in his direction. “What?”

“Nothing. Just don’t become a full blown alchy.”

“Pft, a little mulled wine isn’t going to make me an alcoholic.”

“Whatever you say.” Hal snorted, pushing empty boxes aside so he could get a good look at the decorated mantle. “Damn, I should open an interior decorating firm. This looks gorg!”

“Yeah, it looks good.”

“You’re not even looking! You’ve got your face buried in your phone!”

Thranduil looked up from his phone, “No, I’m looking, it looks very festive. Good job.”

“Thanks! Where would you be without me?!”

“In bed, probably.” Thranduil mumbled, still looking at the pictures Bard had sent him from the tree farm. Some of the shots were very nice, very professional.

“More than likely.”

“Do you think it would be weird to get Bard a present for Christmas?” Thranduil ventured. He knew what the perfect gift would be, but he didn’t know if it was too soon in their relationship to be exchanging gifts. He also knew that Bard did not have money to spare the way he did, so he worried that he could risk embarrassing Bard.

“Well that depends what you want to get him. I wouldn’t spend a lot of money. That would be weird.”

“I know, I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“What if you got him something that doesn’t cost anything?”

“Like what?”

“Well,” Hal grinned, “blow jobs are free.”

Thranduil shook his head. “I should’ve known you’d say that.”

“I’m just kidding. You could always make him something. A drawing, a painting, something artsy.”

“Doesn’t that come off as pretentious? Like, oh look at how wonderful I am, take this art and hang it on your wall!” Thranduil scoffed. No, he didn’t want to paint something for Bard. He wanted to get him something that he would actually use…like a camera.

“Well, then what? I know you’re thinking of something.”

“He said he was into photography, but hasn’t done it in a while, and these pictures he took on his phone from the tree farm look really good, so I thought I could get him some sort of camera—”

“The good ones are fucking expensive!” Hal interrupted. “Thousands of dollars! C’mon Thran, you can’t do that!”

“I know, unless I could find a vintage Polaroid or something from a flea market.”

“Aw, you can be that cheesy couple that takes Polaroid pictures and makes a photo album of the blossoming of your relationship! How cliché!”

“That’s actually a sweet idea. Or I could get him some biker boots.” Thranduil grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Biker boots are sexy.”

“Oh, yes! That might get him to fix up his bike quicker so he can take you for a ride. Although, I’m pretty sure that’s not the kind of ride you want!” Hal laughed at himself, drawing a chuckle from Thranduil.

“Yeah, yeah, get it all out of your system. By this time tomorrow you won’t have anyone to torture, so go ahead, laugh at me!”

“I only laugh because it’s true.”

“The line between real and fake is blurred in your world, Hal.”

Hal waved his hand and disappeared into the kitchen, giving Thranduil enough time to reply to Bard’s text.

At length, the Christmas decorating was complete. Hal stayed over for dinner, but left shortly after. Thranduil finally had some time to paint! He worked on the commission for Thierry Durinson for an hour or so and added a few details to an old abstract that he’d forgotten about. It was always nice to take a break from certain pieces and come back to them later with a fresh perspective.

After he put Legolas to bed, Thranduil took a shower and nestled into bed to read a bit. It was hard to concentrate on reading when Bard kept distracting him with sweet words. So the book was quickly abandoned and Thranduil spent the next hour teasing Bard. He was reluctant to end the conversation with Bard but it was getting late, and tomorrow was Monday, meaning Bard had to go back to work. And Thranduil had his weekday routine to get back to.

Thranduil sighed and set his alarm. He snuggled up with his blanket, wrapping his arms tightly around it the way he’d fallen asleep with Bard on Friday night.

***

It had been easy to ignore real life, easy to push it all aside and live in a fantasy world – no one ever got hurt in an imaginary world. Problems magically disappeared, nothing bad ever happened and all wounds healed without leaving behind physical or emotional scars.

For a week Thranduil had been ignoring.

Every day it got easier to immerse himself in his fantasy world, but then he got a phone call and couldn’t ignore it any longer. Now he was forced to deal with it.

Thranduil was on the couch in the sitting room, wrapped snugly in his black blanket, when his mobile started ringing. At first he thought it would be either Hal or Bard calling, but when he glanced at his phone, he didn’t recognize the number.

He groaned, not wanting to answer. No one ever called him. Maybe it was just a telemarketer. He took a deep breath and accepted the call after a few seconds of hesitation.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Hello,” a deep, rumbling voice greeted, “is this Thranduil Greenleaf?”

“Yes,” _but you completely butchered my name_ , “who’s speaking?”

“This is Investigator Dylan Fundin, with the police department. Do you have a minute to talk?”

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck!_

“Yes…” He mumbled, wishing he was a better liar. He could’ve easily said he was busy, or in the middle of something, anything. A lie would’ve been easier to come up with than having to swallow the harsh truth the Investigator wished to discuss. He knew exactly what this conversation was going to be about.

He should’ve ignored the fucking call. Fuck.

“I am calling because I would like to speak with you about the incident that occurred last weekend, with a…Galion Angmar. I’ve gone over the police report and decided to take on your case myself. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to deal with this individual and I would like to speak with you in person if you would be able to come down to the station one day this week…”

Thranduil gulped. “Um, yes, that should be fine.” He’d much rather talk in person than over the phone. He’d always hated the phone. But in person he might cry.

_No, no, no. Don’t try to predict the future! You gotta do what you gotta do, as Hal said._

“Great. What day will work for you? I would like to go over the evidence that we have – the security camera videos, and the video from your witness—”

His hands began shaking. _What other video? What witness? Bard?_ “What other video?” He questioned, his voice growing meeker by the second.

“Your friend provided us with video evidence of the crime committed against you. Very smart man for thinking so quick on his feet. With this evidence we might finally be able to put that bastard away.”

“Um, yeah…”

“So, whenever you have the time, we can go over all the evidence and help form a solid case against your attacker. He has many charges, so we need your help to lock him away for good. I suggest you speak with your lawyer as this case may have to be taken to the courts. The rat bastard doesn’t seem to want to comply, and so far, is pleading innocent to the charges laid against him.”

Thranduil could barely find his voice. Bard had video evidence? How? Why hadn’t Thranduil been made aware of this sooner? Why hadn’t Bard said anything? “Can I, um, get in contact with you when I figure out my schedule?” was all he could manage to say.

“That will be fine. Just call this number back as soon as you can. Extension 331, or ask reception for Dylan Fundin.”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll be in touch.”

“Good. We’ll talk to you soon, then.”

He hung up the phone and let it slide out of his hand onto the couch. What the hell? A million questions were running through his head. A million reasons why he shouldn’t even bother calling the investigator back. A million reasons why he should call Bard right this instant and yell at him until he found out the truth. How did Bard get a video of what Galion had done to him? Did that mean Bard was watching the entire thing? God, how could he have done that? Just stand there and make a video of Thranduil getting raped? Did Bard enjoy watching it? Did it turn him on?

_Fuck. Don’t think that. He didn’t enjoy it. Why the fuck would you think that? Snap out of it._

_Call Hal. He’ll know what to do. He always has the right answer._

He stood up in an abrupt motion, his mind teetering on the edge of something…something bad, something toxic. He didn’t want to think about it but there was nothing he could do to stop the thoughts from flooding in like a harsh, unforgiving tidal wave. The thoughts had already begun to alter his emotions, and he knew those emotions could very easily affect his behavior. But none of that mattered right now. Fuck it all. He was angry; he was fucking pissed. How could Bard have betrayed him like that? How could he have done such a thing when Thranduil was at his most vulnerable? Bard had seen Thranduil at his very worst. It was more than embarrassing, it was mortifying. He hadn’t seen Bard at his worst, but Bard had witnessed Thranduil’s weakest moment, and filmed it! And then didn’t even tell Thranduil about it. He kept it a secret. He took away a piece of Thranduil, just as Galion had.

_No, it was nothing like that, you fool! Why can’t you just stop? Stop thinking, stop overreacting!_

Thranduil grumbled and bit his tongue. He was on the verge of tears, so he began pacing the house, heavy footfalls echoing off the wooden floor. Good thing Legolas was at school. He stomped into the kitchen and kicked the iron leg of the stool, ignoring the sting it caused in his foot.

_You deserve to feel pain anyway. You’re nothing but a whore – all you’re good for is putting on a show. Everyone loves watching as you allow scum to despoil your disgusting body, your mind…your fucking soul. You’re just a puppet._

He swung open the freezer and pulled out a bottle of vodka.

_Drink it._

He unscrewed the cap and took a swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The bottle went on the counter and Thranduil stuck his head in the freezer. God, was it just him or was it boiling in the house? He fanned himself with a hand and then slammed the freezer door shut. He clutched the bottle of vodka and went into the living room – the one room in the house he’d been purposely avoiding. His breath grew more and more labored as he fixed his eyes upon the spot on the floor where he’d been violated by Galion. His eyes quickly trailed to the window where Bard had most likely filmed it all.

“Ugh,” he grated, “helvete jävla fitta!”

He fumbled to pick up his phone from the couch, found Hal in the contacts and hit ‘call’. He griped and groaned, stomping around the living room as he waited for an answer. “Pick up the fucking phone—”

“Thran? What’s up? I’m with clients now…” Hal greeted in a clipped tone. He was busy, of course. Now Thranduil just felt worse for bothering him.

“Actually…nevermind.” _He doesn’t want to hear your fucking crybaby bullshit! He has a life of his own, and you’re just a bother!_

“No, you ass. Tell me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Thranduil lied.

“I know that tone. You’re angry.”

“I am.”

“I take it you called the police, then?”

“They called me, and I learned some very interesting information.”

“What? Tell me quick because I just bullshitted and said I had to fetch some documents from my office, so quick march!”

“Bard made a video of… _you know_.”

“Of himself jerking off?”

“No! Of Galion…fucking me.”

“What?! No he did not! And minor correction, Galion never fucked you. Fucking implies sex and that wasn’t sex.”

“Fuck the semantics right now, Hal. Bard made a fucking video of it!”

“For evidence, I’m guessing! Well, now Galion’s going to prison for sure! That’s a very smart move on Bard’s part!”

“No, it’s a complete violation of my privacy! He saw things that I don’t even want to think about. I bet it turns him on and he touches himself thinking about it. I can’t believe he would betray me like that. God, Hal, they’re all the same, I should’ve—”

“Just stop right there, Thran. Are you hearing yourself? Do you really think Bard would do that to hurt you in any way? It is possible that he was doing everything he could to help. And he wound up getting concrete evidence which will hopefully put Galion behind bars for a very long time.”

“But—”

“No fucking buts, Thranduil. I have to go now, but I’ll come see you after work, okay? Don’t get yourself in a huff, and don’t drink yourself to sleep. This isn’t a bad thing. I’ll text you when I’m done work. Try to stay calm, please.”

“Fine, fine.”

“Sorry, Thran. I’d talk longer if I could.”

“I know. See you later.”

“Deep breath! See ya.”

When Thranduil hung up the phone, the first thing he did was take another sip of vodka. Why couldn’t he just be rational like the majority of the population? Why did he have to be so fucked up? Whatever, one more drink won’t hurt. He chugged the bottle until a warm sensation filled his chest, then went into the kitchen to put the bottle away before shuffling back into the living room to stare at the crime scene once again.

His emotions stirred, the negative thoughts not wanting to let up. He knew if he let himself, he’d be thinking about it all day today, all day tomorrow – maybe even for the rest of the week. And depending on Bard’s reaction, Thranduil could very well be lamenting for months.

He forced himself to think about this situation from the perspective Hal offered. Look at it through Bard’s eyes. He was only trying to help. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t still be around. In theory, that all seemed well and good, but trying to accept it as the truth was much more difficult for Thranduil to do. Sure, Bard had proven he cared about Thranduil over the weekend, and really, since the first time they met. But, he’d seen a side of Thranduil that he should’ve never seen. Thranduil hadn’t gotten to witness Bard in such a vulnerable state. It wasn’t fair. Bard saw the whole fucking thing! Did he still have that video on his phone? Had he watched it? Multiple times? Or did he just send it to the police and then delete it?

Maybe it would be wise to call Bard. But right now, Thranduil wasn’t wise, nor did he want to be. He wanted to sulk. He was good at sulking. He was a professional at feeling sorry for himself; he had years and years of practice mastering that skill.

_Just wallow in bed, drink yourself to sleep, wake up and do it all over again._

But he couldn’t do that. He had to be a father to Legolas. He couldn’t ignore his responsibilities. And he couldn’t put off his work any longer, either. He had a commission to finish. God, how was he supposed to do that now, with his mind in such a frenzy? He needed to be in a calm, serene mood to be able to work on a detailed landscape. He needed to be centered, not off-kilter like he was now.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed, finally drawing his eyes away from the spot on the floor where his blood had been only last weekend. Shit, he really was a whore. Only a week after being raped – a word he still didn’t like to use – he was already giving his new boyfriend a hand job in his bed, and readily accepting the favour in return like nothing had ever happened.

A text message from Bard was waiting for him on his phone. He made a face but opened the message anyway.

[From: Bard] 10:31am – morning pretty doll. I hope you have a good day <3

Ugh, how was he supposed to answer now that he knew Bard was keeping a secret and pretending that he had nothing to hide? Thranduil didn’t even want to deal with it; he wanted to sleep.

He reread the message once more but didn’t reply. It’s not like Bard asked him how he was; there was no need to respond. He took his phone upstairs with him, set the alarm for three o’clock and set it on his night stand. Then, he crawled into bed. A fucking good day, indeed.

Thranduil awoke a few minutes before his alarm was set to go off, so he slunk out of bed and padded to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and focused on the stitches in his head. While he had been with Bard over the weekend he barely even noticed they were there; his mind had been so preoccupied. But now, now they were staring him down, mocking him, laughing at him. He knew it was probably time to go see his doctor to have them removed, but the thought of being out in public and having to drive to the doctor’s office kept him from making the appointment. Whatever, it didn’t matter if they stayed in a little longer. He could always cut them out himself, but he knew he was not likely to do such a thing unless he was feeling extremely impulsive.

It was almost time to go get Legolas from the bus stop. Thranduil quickly washed his stitches, put on a thick sweater and headed down stairs. The driveway was covered with a blanket of snow again, even after he’d shoveled it early this morning before taking Legolas out to the bus. Such an annoying, monotonous task. He sighed, deciding to put off the shoveling until after he’d gotten back home with Legolas.

There was still some time before the bus was due to arrive, so Thranduil went into the kitchen and took another sip of vodka. He instantly felt guilty, like he was a horrible parent, drinking before going to get his son. What kind of a father did that? Certainly not a good one.

_You’re not good at anything though. Except for one thing…being a whore._

He swallowed hard, on edge because these fucking thoughts were still plaguing him, even after his attempt to sleep it off. He read over the message Bard sent him earlier, still unsure if he should reply. He knew himself well enough; he’d act calm at first, as if nothing was wrong, then somehow he’d bring up what was bothering him – but not gently, no, he would throw it in Bard’s face, make a scene, embarrass himself even more, get even angrier because of how mortified he was, and then cry and drink until he passed out. It was better to say nothing at all.

The mission to the bus stop was a disaster, causing Thranduil to become even more irritated. He and Legolas did not speak much on the way home, trying their best to trek through the snow without becoming soaked in the process. When they finally got into the house and got out of their coats and boots, Legolas looked at Thranduil with questioning eyes.

“Ada, what’s wrong?” He asked, little brows knit together in worry.

“Hmm? Nothing is wrong, leaf. You know me, I just hate the snow.” Thranduil said, brushing off his son’s question without a thought.

Legolas gave him a pensive look before nodding and making his way upstairs. There was nothing Thranduil could say to Legolas that would make things better. He couldn’t share his troubles with his nine-year-old son; these were adult issues he was dealing with. He was meant to suffer alone.

But then he remembered that Hal said he would come over tonight. Maybe talking to someone would help. At least he’d be able to get it all out in the open so his emotions could stop festering.

_I bet Hal doesn’t even want to talk to you. All you do is piss him off._

That thought was enough to send Thranduil back into the kitchen for another drink of vodka. Fuck shoveling the driveway, it’s not like the snow was going anywhere.

It was past sundown and Thranduil hadn’t even started on dinner. He’d convinced himself everyone hated him and he would be alone forever.

Hal’s text message helped confirm it all.

[From: Hal] 5:22pm – Sorry Thran, I can’t come over tonight. Forgot about the fundraiser. Please don’t stress out, I’ll call you once I get home around 9, okay?

_You should just die. You’re practically worthless. Just kill yourself._

“Fuck you, Hal. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” Thranduil grumbled. He felt the tears coming; there was nothing that could stop them now. He went upstairs to his room and threw himself down on his bed, burying his face into his black blanket. No one cared about him; he meant nothing.

_You really are worthless. A disgusting waste of space is all you are._

He cried for a good hour, only realizing how late it was when he heard a light knock on his door.

“Ada, I’m hungry. Are you making dinner?” Legolas’s voice drew him out of his bed quickly.

“Yes, little leaf. I’m coming.” He replied, trying to keep his voice steady. He headed into the bathroom, splashed his face with cold water and then emerged from his bedroom.

Legolas wasn’t outside his door waiting for him like Thranduil thought he would be.

“Leaf? Where did you go?”

“I’m downstairs!” Legolas called out. “I’m starving!”

“Okay, coming.” Thranduil said, heading down the stairs and into the kitchen where Legolas was digging through the refrigerator. “What do you want to eat?”

Legolas’s expression shifted once he got a look at Thranduil. But luckily, he didn’t ask Thranduil what was wrong, even though it was clear what was on his mind.

“I want hot dogs. But all we’ve got are these nasty tofu dogs. You still haven’t done the groceries, Ada.”

“I know, Legs. I’m sorry, I’ll go tomorrow.” Thranduil felt bad because they had hardly any food in the house and he’d been putting off going to the grocery store for a while now. “We have cheese, at least. I can make you a grilled cheese sandwich. You love those.”

“The bread is stale.” Legolas commented, squeezing the loaf of bread.

“It’s not that bad,” Thranduil said, squeezing the bread to see if it was too dried out to use. “It’ll be grilled anyway.”

“Okay,” Legolas agreed. “At least it’s not moldy.”

Thranduil made the grilled cheese, and then heated up canned tomato soup in a pot. Not exactly the most nutritious meal, but it would have to do for now. As Thranduil put together the food, he barely thought about what he was doing; he was on autopilot, merely going through the motions. His mind was somewhere else entirely.

He set the food down on the table in front of Legolas, forgoing a place mat and forgetting to ask his son if he wanted anything to drink. Legolas didn’t say anything though; he got up and poured himself a glass of juice and went back to eating silently. Thranduil cleaned the pot and pan and put them away.

Legolas looked over at him, taking another bite of his grilled cheese. “Ada, aren’t you going to eat?” He asked, pulling Thranduil from his trance.

Thranduil hummed, not making eye contact with his son. “Oh, no. I’m not hungry. I’ll just wait for you to finish and then I’ll clean up.”

“What are you doing in your room anyway?”

_Hosting a fucking pity party and crying like a bitch._

“Just going through my old clothes, finding things to donate.” Thranduil lied, eyeing the refrigerator door. The vodka was calling his name.

“Oh, okay.” Legolas finished off his food, got up from the table and made his way over to Thranduil. He wrapped his little arms around his father’s waist, hugging him tightly. “I hope you’re alright, Ada.”

“I’m fine, little leaf. Everything’s alright.” Thranduil replied, his throat tightening. God, he was about to cry again. He bit the inside of his cheek to help fight off the tears and hugged his son back. He was getting a little too good at lying.

After Legolas had begun his homework at the kitchen table, Thranduil went into robot mode. He cleaned the kitchen, scrubbed the floors, wiped down mirrors that weren’t even dirty. He’d managed to pour vodka into a water bottle and had been drinking that while he was cleaning. It was the only way Legolas wouldn’t question him. Thranduil took another lengthy sip from the bottle before hauling the stove out from between the counter.

“What are you doing?” Legolas asked, looking up from his notebook.

“It gets dirty behind here, too, you know.” Thranduil said, struggling to get the stove far enough away from the wall so that he could fit in behind it.

“This is some intensive cleaning, Ada.”

“Cleanliness is next to godliness, as they say.”

“Whatever that means,” Legolas chuckled.

“It means Ada feels better about himself when things are clean. A messy house means a messy mind.”

“So many strange house-cleaning sayings!” Legolas chuckled again, closing his notebook and setting down his pencil. “Done my homework. I think I’m gonna go read before bed.”

“Okay, sounds good,” Thranduil said from behind the stove. “I’ll come up later to say goodnight.”

“Okay, Ada. Have fun with the dust bunnies.”

Once the kitchen was spotless and the laundry had been put into the washing machine, Thranduil went out into the garage with his water bottle of vodka and his pack of cigarettes. He smoked and drank until the bottle was empty, then he stumbled back into the house, threw the pack of cigarettes onto the kitchen table and proceeded to pour more vodka into the bottle. He ended up spilling some on the floor, causing him to yell out in frustration. He wiped up the spill and then washed the spot on the floor with Mr. Clean and a rag. He was well on his way to becoming completely intoxicated.

It was past nine o’clock now, so Thranduil went upstairs to make sure Legolas had brushed his teeth before going to bed. He found his son already tucked in, reading a book. Legolas set the book on his nightstand when Thranduil approached.

“Time for bed, leafster. Did you brush your teeth yet?”

“Yup, all done, Ada.”

“Good boy.” Thranduil leaned over to press a kiss on his son’s head before turning off the lamp.

“Ew, you smell like smoke,” Legolas said. He scrunched his nose and waved his hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, Legs.”

_Fucking idiot, you should’ve showered! Now he knows you’ve been smoking!_

“Smoking is bad, Ada. It will kill you.”

_Not fast enough._

“I know, darling. I won’t do it again.” Thranduil said. Another lie. “Sleep well. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Ada.”

Thranduil went back downstairs and continued nursing his bottle of vodka. It was nice feeling this warm inside. Sure, it was an artificial warmth, but it felt good nonetheless. It was the only way he could feel any semblance of happiness at the moment. He put on the television and flicked through the channels, stopping when he saw _Jeopardy_. He watched with vague interest, calling out any answers he knew and scolding the contestants when they didn’t get the answer right. At least he was mildly amused.

Just as someone got _double jeopardy_ , Thranduil’s phone rang. It was Hal. Thranduil stared at the screen, refusing to answer. It rang a second time, and then a third. Finally, a text came through.

[From: Hal] 9:19pm – ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thranduil grunted and hit the touch screen, typing out a response.

[To: Hal] 9:20pm – hiw abuto no

His vision was blurry now and he could care less about his typos. He didn’t want to talk to Hal; he didn’t want to be judged and ridiculed.

[From: Hal] 9:20pm – What the hell are you trying to say?!

[From: Hal] 9:20pm – are you drunk?

[To: Hal] 9:21pm – wgats it to yoy? not liek you fuckinf care!

His phone started ringing again, and this time he was too wound up to just ignore it.

“What do you want?!” He answered, practically shouting into the phone.

“Whoa, Thran. What the hell is going on? Is this because of what you found out today regarding Bard and that video?”

Thranduil scoffed. “Bard and his jerk off material, more like it.” He laughed, and then took another sip from his bottle.

“Don’t even say that, Thran. It’s not true, and you know it. You drank yourself into a stupor, didn’t you? And now you can’t think rationally. God, I knew I should’ve told them I couldn’t make it to the fundraiser!”

“Pft, you have a life, Hal. You can’t miss out on things because of me. Fuck me, just like everyone does.”

“Excuse me, but I do not want to fuck you, as you put it.”

“No one does!” Thranduil laughed again. “Or rather, that’s the only thing they want because I am nothing more than a piece of ass!”

“That’s not how I meant it, so can you stop, for just two seconds?”

“I’m watching _Jeopardy_ and all these people are fucking idiots.”

“You need to realize that Bard didn’t purposely make that video to hurt you, Thran. You know that man cares about you more than anything. Think of all he’s done for you. He took you to the hospital, he let you stay at his place, he came over the next day and went to get us food, he helped you clean up the house, and he took your drunken ass up to bed to make sure you were safe! You can’t say he doesn’t care, because he does. He didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted to help. So can you at least try to see it from that perspective instead of freaking out?”

“I’m allowed to freak out, Hal! I’m allowed to get drunk and do whatever the fuck I want. It’s my life.”

“Oh, god. There’s no getting through to you, is there?”

“No. So just go back to your fundraiser and leave me alone.”

“The fundraiser is over, Thran. And I won’t leave you alone because I know how you’ll take that.”

“And how’s that?”

“As rejection. I know you, especially when you’re in this state of mind. You take everything the wrong way, and I don’t mean this as criticism, so don’t be so quick to jump to your own defense. I merely state the truth. You know it’s the truth, too; you know how you get. I just want to make sure you don’t do anything to hurt yourself.”

“I’m not going to hurt myself,” Thranduil snorted. “I might drink until I pass out, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Why do you want to drink and pass out so badly? What’s the alcohol going to do for you?”

“Can you stop challenging me?” Thranduil grit his teeth.

“No, you have to challenge these thoughts and this behavior. That’s how you can overcome it. You learned all this in therapy but you don’t seem to put it to use.”

“Fuck therapy.”

“That’s clearly what you’re doing, not using any of the coping strategies they taught you. Just wallowing and feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Well if I don’t feel sorry for myself no one will.”

“Can we just stay on topic, please? Why are you so angry at Bard?”

“Because he violated me! He saw something horrible, something that I’d never want anyone in the fucking world to see. It’s like he knows me in a way that I will never know him. He saw things. I can’t stand thinking about it! I bet it turned him on and he liked watching it and he’s just like Galion—”

“Let me cut you off right there, honey. He did NOT enjoy any of it, not one part. He was disgusted by what Galion did to you. Bard would never get pleasure from such a sick act. And yes, he witnessed you in a very vulnerable state, so it makes sense that you’re angry. But don’t you think that maybe your anger stems from the fact that you’re embarrassed that he saw this? Because when you think about it, what Bard did is only going to help you, it’s solid evidence against Galion; it’s not a bad thing. This could be what helps lock him up.”

Thranduil groaned. He was too drunk to deal with this right now. “I don’t know what to say, Hal. Yes, I am fucking embarrassed. You would be, too.”

“Of course I would be, anyone would be. That’s a normal response, but freaking out like this and drinking to mask the pain, isn’t. It’s unhealthy and it’s not going to solve your problems. The only thing that’s going to make things better is if you talk to Bard. You need to tell him how you feel, see what he says, and then forgive him. He probably feels bad about what he did, but try to put yourself in his shoes. He was probably panicking and just did whatever he thought he could to help, so don’t be hard on him, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah! I get it. I don’t want to talk anymore. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Go to sleep, then. Tomorrow is a new day; you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I doubt it, but fine, I’ll go to bed.”

“Alrighty, sleep well, drink lots of water. And please, think about what I’ve said.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

“Night, Thran.”

Thranduil threw the empty water bottle across the room, shut off the television and all the lights, and then made his way up the stairs. He shed himself of his clothes, plugged in his phone and somehow managed to set his alarm. Then he crawled into bed and before he knew it, he fell into a deep sleep.

***

Bard didn’t expect Monday to go very smoothly. The children knew Madison was leaving, and he figured they’d be a little more emotional than usual. But to his surprise, they hadn’t mentioned her before heading off to school that morning.

Work went by the same as usual. It was busier than a normal Monday, so time flew. Bard had always enjoyed busy days, even if they did stress him out. He’d texted Thranduil earlier in the day, but had yet to hear back from him.

By the time he got home after work, he still hadn’t heard from Thranduil. At first he didn’t think too much of it, but then he began to worry that something was wrong. Thranduil never took this long to reply, he was always quick with his responses. Bard never had to wait this long to hear back from him. Then he remembered Thranduil’s text from Sunday, saying that he was _dealing with shit_. Was he still struggling with something and just not telling Bard about it? Maybe he didn’t want to put his problems on Bard, not that Bard would mind. He wanted to be there in any way he could to support Thranduil and make sure he was okay after all that had happened.

So, after supper, he tried texting again.

[To: T] 6:01pm – is everything okay, doll? text me back when you get this

He set his phone aside, not wanting to get too caught up in waiting for Thranduil’s reply. Maybe he just needed some time to sort out whatever was going on.

Bain and Sigrid were at the kitchen table working away on their homework, while Tilda went upstairs to take a bath. Bard made himself a cup of tea and snacked on a few baby carrots from the fridge.

“I tried texting and calling her today, but nothing.” He overheard Sigrid saying to her brother.

“Figures. I don’t expect much from her anymore. You shouldn’t either.” Bain replied.

“I don’t. I just thought that maybe she would answer and say a final farewell or something.”

“She’s abandoned us, Sig. She’s off her rocker – completely nuts!”

“I wonder if she’s having a mid-life crisis.”

“She isn’t even into mid-life yet.”

“Can still happen.”

“She just never wanted us in the first place.”

“I know, that has become very clear over the past few weeks,” Sigrid huffed. “Well, I’m done for tonight.”

“Yeah, so I am. My eyes are killing me, staring at this textbook for so long. I’m gonna need glasses soon.” Bain groaned, closing the textbook dramatically.

Sigrid looked up at Bard, who was sipping at his tea and doing a very bad job pretending he wasn’t listening. “Are you just gonna stand there, Da?”

“What? Sorry, Sig. I’m just thinking.”

“About Ma being a bitch?” Bain supplied.

“Don’t use that language, Bain, please. I thought she would’ve reached out to you guys, at least.”

“She hasn’t talked to you either?” Sigrid asked.

“No, not a word. I didn’t expect her to talk to me, but I was hoping she might talk to you. I guess I was wrong.”

“Yeah. Nothing.” Bain shrugged. “I bet one day she’ll come crawling back to us and then we’ll all laugh because we’ll have a new and better life.”

“That’s a possibility. She did make a very rash decision.” Sigrid agreed, nodding.

“Then she’ll come home and find out Da is dating a man and she’ll freak out!” Bain chuckled.

“Hey, who says I’m dating anybody?” Bard shook his head. It seemed that Sigrid wasn’t the only one who knew; now Bain was also up to speed. Or at least he thought he was. Hopefully he was just teasing and didn’t actually believe that Bard was dating. He didn’t want to tell them that much.

“We know you’re seeing that guy,” Bain pressed, cracking a smile.

“It doesn’t bother us, Da.” Sigrid cut in. “We’re all fine with it, like I said the other day – as long as you’re happy.”

Bard approached and took a seat at the table, swirling the tea in his mug. “This isn’t something I wanted to concern you with, but I guess you’re both just too perceptive for your own good.”

Sigrid flashed a smug grin and Bain’s eyes went wide as if Bard was about to reveal some big secret.

“All I can tell you is that I like him, and he likes me and we would like to spend more time together.” Bard exhaled loudly, hands fidgeting with the mug.

“That’s cool, Da. Get to know each other and whatever adults do these days.” Bain said, his cheeks looking a little redder than usual.

“When do we get to meet him?” Sigrid questioned.

“I’m not sure. Tilda is going to meet him on the weekend.”

“What! How? Where?”

“I offered to take him and his son to the tree farm on Sunday, and I thought maybe Tilda would enjoy going again.”

“He has a son?” Bain blurted.

“You never told us this!”

“I’m telling you now. His son is a year older than Tilda and I thought it would be nice for them to get to know each other, see if they get along.”

“What about us?” Sigrid said, furrowing her brow. “We aren’t invited?”

“I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. The three of you at once may be a lot to handle. I’d rather just go slowly with all of this.”

“Yeah, Da, don’t freak him out. We’ll have to keep Sig away from him as long as possible.”

“Hey, I’m the nicest person ever! I make everyone feel welcome. But I understand what you’re saying, Da. All of us at once would be a little much for anyone.”

“Isn’t he gay? How does he have a son?” Bain asked.

“He’s probably bi like Da, doofus!” Sigrid rolled her eyes.

“Oh, yeah, my bad!” Bain chuckled, piling his books neatly and standing from the table.

Bard shook his head, laughing. At least Bain seemed accepting; the talk he had was his grandmother must’ve actually got to him.

“Going to play video games, I assume?”

“Yep. Off I go.” Bain said, heading for the stairs.

Once Bain had left the room, Sigrid fixated her eyes on her father. “I do want to meet him soon, you know.”

“I know, Sig. Just give it time, okay? No rushing.”

“Okay, Da. I promise we won’t freak him out. Or I won’t, at least.”

***

By the time Tuesday night rolled around, Bard had become increasingly worried. Thranduil still hadn’t answered any of his texts. He even called as soon as he got home from work, three times to be exact, and no response. What was going on?

It wouldn’t do any good to sit on the sofa and reflect on all the things he could’ve possibly done wrong; the list was endless. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what he’d done to cause Thranduil to ignore him, but if he had to guess, he was pretty sure it was because of the impromptu hand jobs in Thranduil’s bed. How uncomfortable was that for someone who’d just been sexually assaulted? Probably extremely uncomfortable. Knots coiled tighter and tighter in the pit of Bard’s stomach; he never wanted to make Thranduil uneasy. That was not his intention at all. He needed to tell this to Thranduil, to make him understand so he could find it in his heart to forgive, and not just write Bard off as another asshole who took advantage of him. It pained Bard to know that that’s probably what Thranduil was thinking – that Bard was some piece of shit who only wanted him for sex. It was no secret that Thranduil was absolutely stunning – the most attractive person Bard had ever laid eyes on, so how often did people hit on him? How often did people want to get in his pants? Probably all the time.

But wait!

What if Thranduil wasn’t ignoring him? The lump in Bard’s throat became his sole focus for a moment, the only thing to distract him from the scenarios that replayed in his head. Thranduil went out and got in an accident. He went for a walk and got hit by a car. His abusive ex showed up and attacked him.

It took a few tries before he swallowed the lump in his throat. He felt sick, but he got up from the sofa and scrambled to find his phone. Bard quickly called Thranduil’s number again, to no avail. Was it foolish to be this worried? Bile rose up his chest like thunderclouds banding together to form a tornado. The storm was coming, and Bard didn’t know how prepared he was.

“Da?” A small voice drew Bard’s attention, but his mind was elsewhere.

Tilda. It was past ten o’clock on a Tuesday night, why was Tilda awake?

“Til, what’re you doing up?” Bard asked with a tone that would easily give away just how stressed he was – if he were talking to anyone but his eight-year-old daughter. Thank the gods Tilda couldn’t detect his worry.

“I can’t sleep, Da.”

“I’ll go up with you, okay?” Bard offered. Maybe Tilda had come to save him from his whirlwind of uncertainties.

He scooped Tilda in his arms, carried her up stairs and deposited her into her own bed. He told her to wait for him while he was getting changed into his sleep clothes. As he changed, he couldn’t help but think of Thranduil and his no-clothes-in-bed policy. Better not to think of that.

_Just go to sleep. Figure it out in the morning. Go to his house if you have to._

Bard looked at his phone one last time. With a sigh, he plugged it in and headed to Tilda’s room with his pillow and a thin blanket.

***

Tuesday had been complete and utter shit for Thranduil. He drank the entire day once he’d taken Legolas to the bus stop, and was so inebriated that he barely sobered up before school was out and he had to go get Legolas. If his son could detect his odd behavior, he didn’t say anything. Legolas kept quiet and played by himself in his room once they’d gotten back home. Since Thranduil still hadn’t done the groceries, they had boxed macaroni and cheese, which thankfully, Legolas enjoyed.

Thranduil didn’t eat.

He hadn’t eaten breakfast, he skipped lunch and he ignored dinner, even when Legolas asked him why he wasn’t eating at the table. He knew he was being a bad parent, he knew what he was doing was wrong, but the unwanted emotions flooded his thoughts and nothing else mattered but killing them. And right now, drinking killed the thoughts. Without the thoughts, the emotions went away. If only for a short while.

When Legolas had finished his meal, he stayed at the kitchen table and did his homework. Thranduil stayed on the couch in the sitting room, calling out to Legolas every now and then to make sure he was faring well and didn’t need any help. It’s not like Thranduil was even in the right state of mind to be of any assistance to his son.

_Galion won. He raped you and you just took it. You couldn’t fight him off then and you can’t fight him off now. He’s still there; he’s still getting to you. You weak, pathetic fuck. Bard knows exactly how weak you are. He knows how your face looked when you got violated. He knows the sound of your screams. He captured it all, he immortalized it. It will never fade. It will always be there, a part of you that will never heal. How can you move on now? You can’t, you never will. You’re doomed to fail, you’re doomed to be alone. Why haven’t you killed yourself yet?_

Another sip of vodka.

Another cigarette.

The thoughts kept getting worse, but in the midst of it all a small voice in the back of Thranduil’s head told him something he needed to hear. _Why aren’t you listening to Hal? You know what this is. You know Bard didn’t mean to hurt you. Why do you even think of it as ‘hurt’? He didn’t hurt you. He didn’t do anything wrong. He helped you._

“I know! Fuck, I know.”

“You know what?” Legolas asked, appearing in the doorway.

“Nothing, leaf. Are you ready for bed?” It was hard not to slur his words.

“I can take myself to bed, Ada.”

Thranduil frowned. “I can tuck you in.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re sad because – um – because…he…hurt you.”

“Legolas—”

“Don’t say it’s not true, because I know it is. I don’t like when you drink. I know that’s what you’re doing and it’s not good for you, Ada. You don’t tell me anything but I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not stupid, leaf. God, I’m so sorry.” Thranduil choked out the words, tears forming in his eyes, threatening to consume him until he broke.

“I know. I love you, Ada.” Legolas approached Thranduil with slow steps, hugged him and then retreated. “Good night.”

“I love you, too, Legolas.” God, how could he do this to his son? He needed to stop drinking and deal with his problems. “I am sorry.” He said, barely a whisper, after Legolas had left the room.

A strange feeling took over, urging Thranduil to get up from the couch and pour out the vodka in the sink. He didn’t need any more temptations. Get rid of it. He watched it swirl down the drain, left the bottle on the counter and headed upstairs.

Once he was in the safety of his own room, he fell to his knees and a sob tore from his throat.

_You can’t be like this anymore. Deal with it. Don’t run. Talk to Bard, listen to him and be open enough to see things from his perspective. He cares about you._

Positive affirmations had never been one of Thranduil’s strengths, but he tried. He needed to change his negative thought pattern so that his reactions would be less severe.

He picked up his phone; still ignoring Bard’s missed calls and unanswered texts, and called Hal instead.

Hal apologized endlessly for not reaching out to Thranduil sooner, but within minutes he was there at the front door, waiting for Thranduil to let him in out of the cold. Thranduil let Hal in and dispensed with the pleasantries. He got to the point quickly.

“How could he do this to me?! I should’ve expected it. I am trash, I shouldn’t expect to be treated as anything more. No one will ever care. They’re all the same, Hal! Just use me, fuck me over; that’s all I’m good for. A fucking…doll, a blow-up doll; that’s why Bard calls me that. I’m meant to be used, over and over, by multiple people… until I fucking break!” Thranduil’s voice wavered, volume rising as he was finally able to get the words out.

Hal exhaled loudly and rubbed his temples. Of course, Thranduil gave him a headache! Such an inconvenience.

“I don’t even know where to begin. Everything you’re saying is just…”

“The truth?!”

“…so fucking ridiculous.”

Thranduil grunted, flailing his arms. He became very animated when he was pissed off. “Why do you do this to me? You constantly shut me down. Fuck, are my feelings not valid? No! Of course not! They never are!”

“Yes, they are. But they’re irrational.” Hal blinked and folded his arms in front of his chest. “Have you been this worked up for the past two days? Did you not listen to anything I said?”

“Excuse me! I ruminate over things for longer than I should, I know! I can’t fucking help it.”

“Have you been drinking today? I can smell it, and the smoke. Phew!”

“I didn’t – no, I lie. I did. I drank after I took leaf to the bus stop, and again after dinner. Why the fuck not? I’m useless anyway, might as well be drunk.”

“You’re on the road to alcoholism, Thran.” Hal graveled with an expression somewhere between concern and fear.

“My father was an alcoholic, a functioning alcoholic, but an alcoholic nevertheless. The best in the country at the line up—”

“Thran, please.”

“You know it’s all his fault.”

“What’s his fault?”

“That I’m like this. You remember how I’d stay at your house because I was scared of him? He got so violent. Ah, history fucking repeats itself! It’s his fault I fell for all of Galion’s fuckery. My father got me so used to it; I practically searched it out and begged to be tortured! God, I deserve what I get.”

“Thran! Stop, for fuck’s sake! I remember how your father was, but I don’t know why you’re focusing on it now. I thought this was about Bard…and that video.”

“It is! But everything just seems to come out at once! I can’t stop it! And to think…I was falling in love with him. But he’s been keeping secrets this entire time. It’s so fucking embarrassing!”

“You see! You’re only hurt because you have such strong feelings for him, because you’re embarrassed, so of course it seems worse than it really is. But like I said before….” Hal put his hands on his hips and gave Thranduil a look.

“What?”

“Finish the sentence. What did I tell you?”

“What, that Bard cares about me and was just trying to help, that he didn’t know what else to do? Yes, I know, I’ve been trying to convince myself of that all day! It’s just so hard to believe when one side of my brain tells me that it’s all a farce and he’s just like Galion. Even though I know he’s not.”

“Okay, so put aside the whole video thing for a minute and tell me what you think of Bard.”

“Um, well…fuck. He’s…perfect. Everything I ever wanted. Patient, kind, generous, attentive, understanding, so fucking gorgeous – um…a good father, and he treats me better than anyone ever has…”

“Then there you go! You forgive him, you do your best to see things from his point of view and if you want a relationship with him then you find a way to move past this. He wasn’t trying to hurt you; he was trying to help you in whatever way he could.”

Thranduil sighed in resignation. Fuck, everything Hal was saying was the truth, and Thranduil knew it all along. The rational side was finally able to overpower the irrational. “Fuck.”

“It’s obvious he loves you, Thran. I can see it.”

“Really?”

“Um, yeah!”

“Then why didn’t he tell me about this? Why did he keep it from me?”

“Because he’s scared of your reaction. He’s scared you’ll leave him. Like you said, he’s been in a shit relationship all his life so being with you was probably the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time – you two have similar experiences, you understand each other. He doesn’t want to lose you. Look at it from his perspective and get out of your own head.”

“Ugh, I know I’m an awful person to be with. He deserves better.”

“God, Thran, that’s not at all what I’m saying. See, there you are floating around in your head, not even listening to me.” Hal sighed. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” He annunciated each syllable. “Just treat him the way he treats you, the way you want to be treated. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

“Helvete. Now I feel bad for thinking he’d ever want to intentionally hurt me. I am horrible.”

“No, you’re not. You’re allowed to feel your feelings. Acknowledge them but then move on; don’t let the thoughts become catastrophic.”

“That’s my signature move,” Thranduil said, forcing a chuckle. Fake it til you make it, as they say.

“It is. It always has been. But I know you well and I know there’s more to you than your catastrophic thinking.”

“Thanks, Hal. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You know I’m always here.”

Despite the few instances where Thranduil almost lost his temper on Hal, he seemed to feel better once they’d ended their conversation. All his feelings were out, nothing was hidden anymore; he hadn’t held anything back with Hal and that alone made him feel lighter.

After Hal had left and Thranduil had washed up and gotten ready for bed, he went into Legolas’s room and gave his sleeping son a goodnight kiss on the forehead. He’d have to find a way to make it up to Legolas.

Back in bed, Thranduil scrolled through all the messages Bard sent him over the past two days. The poor man was so worried. It was wrong of Thranduil to leave him hanging. But it was late now, too late to bring up such a topic. This was a conversation they needed to have in person.

Tomorrow, then.

***

Thank the gods for Bard’s internal clock, otherwise he wouldn’t have woken up in time to get the kids ready for school and himself to work on time. He awoke in Tilda’s bed, confused at first as to why he was there, but soon enough he remembered. She couldn’t sleep, and he needed the distraction.

Thranduil. Right.

As soon as he got into his room, he checked his phone.

No new messages.

It was disappointing, but Bard had other things to worry about – kids to wake up, lunches to make; he didn’t have time to mull over Thranduil. Not now at least.

The school preparation was enough to keep his mind busy until he arrived at work. Even though it was busy at work, Bard still found time to send Thranduil a text shortly after nine o’clock. He was beginning to feel pathetic.

[To: T] 9:13am – doll, I’m sorry….please talk to me

He put his phone in his locker and went back to work with an empty feeling in his chest.

It was on his lunch break when he had the chance to check his phone again. His eyes lit up when he saw a new message from Thranduil. Was he reading that correctly? Yes, it was from Thranduil.

Bard gulped, pushing aside his lunch in favour of the text message. He was hesitant to open in. What was Thranduil going to say? He could feel his heart racing and he took a deep breath to steady himself before opening the message.

[From: T] 9:56am – Hey, I’m so sorry. We need to talk.

Bard’s heart dropped.

_Shit._

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard worries, Thranduil makes himself useful, and they finally have their talk.

* * *

 

Time came to a standstill.

 

_We need to talk_

 

It was no secret what that meant.

It roughly translated to: I’m not ready for this, I’m dumping you, and…you’re not good enough. Bard tacked on that last thought after a few moments of consideration. Of course, he should have realized sooner but he’d been so blind. Bard would never be good enough for someone like Thranduil, someone so beautiful and talented, someone so…well-off.

_No, just say it – rich._

Thranduil was fucking rich; no reason to make it sound like anything other than what it was. Thranduil had money, and Bard did not. Bard had nothing to offer. Why had he been so stupid? He almost laughed out loud at himself for being such an idiot.

He wanted to text Thranduil back, tell him to just get it over with, say what he meant to say, let it all out. There was no point waiting until later. Why prolong the inevitable? If Thranduil was going to break up with him, Bard would rather it happen now. But he didn’t say anything; instead he sat at the break room table, his lunch still untouched. He’d lost his appetite anyhow.

Over the course of the next thirty minutes, his fingers ghosted over the mobile keypad several times, but all he managed to come up with was, _talk about what?_ He read over those three words more than was necessary before hitting send.

Maybe Thranduil would take pity on him and just end things now. Bard didn’t need the extra time to mull and fret. He’d end up convincing himself that, against all odds, this wasn’t going to be a break up.

It clearly was.

Why torture himself with false hope?

Within minutes, his phone vibrated on the table, causing him to jump in his seat. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and looked at the lit-up screen. Yes, Thranduil had replied. Bard’s body tensed and he shook out his hands before picking up his phone. God, he was so on edge. He needed to calm down. Just breathe. It would do no good to pass out at work. The children were relying on him; he needed to work in order to make money. It wouldn’t do to have to go home early and miss out on half a day’s pay because of his skyrocketing anxiety.

_Fucking breathe!_

His throat tightened as he opened the message.

[From: T] 12:39pm – it would be easier to talk about in person, not through text messages.

An empty feeling weaseled its way into Bard’s chest and his heart sped up. Easier to talk about what? Why was Thranduil being so vague? Just say it! Guilt took over as soon as Bard thought about the break up again. He’d done so many things wrong. He shouldn’t have touched Thranduil so intimately; he shouldn’t have acted like such an animal. Why hadn’t he been able to control his desires?! He should’ve just respected Thranduil’s personal space and not gotten so close. It was too much; Bard could sense it. He’d made Thranduil uncomfortable, he’d pushed too far. Maybe if he just backed off for a while… Maybe giving Thranduil some time alone would help; maybe they could stay together… Bard just needed to apologize for whatever it was that he’d done wrong.

[From: T] 12:41pm – Can you possibly come over after work?

Oh, god. Seeing that beautiful face would likely send Bard plummeting further into his pit of self-doubt. That face was so ethereal and otherworldly; enough to make mere mortals weep. And that’s all Bard was – a mortal, while Thranduil was a God. Bard deserved to be dumped. He didn’t deserve the mercy or love of a God.

Bard tried to quell his worries before his break was over, but he’d ended up fretting so long that he was a few minutes late getting back in the garage and got a stern look from his boss. That only managed to fuel his irritation even more. But since it was busy today, he was distracted enough that his thoughts all but vanished.

At four o’clock Bard sent Sigrid a quick text to ask her if she would put the chicken in the oven so supper would be ready by the time he got home with Tilda. Bard was thankful that his daughter agreed to help out; that was one less worry for him tonight, which meant he would be able to make it to Thranduil’s house sooner. The sooner it’s over with, the better, he kept telling himself.

He immersed himself in his work for the next hour and signed out as soon as the clock struck five. It was rush hour, so the traffic got him into a bit of a mood on his way to pick Tilda up from her after-school program. He hated rushing; he felt like his whole life was rushed; he never had time to do things at a leisurely pace. Thank the gods Tilda’s school was only a few miles from his work.

Tilda was waiting for him in the school lobby with a few other children and immediately rushed out the doors when she saw him pull up to the entrance. She jumped into the backseat with haste and Bard made sure she’d fastened her seat belt before heading home.

“You have a good day today, honeybee?”

“Same as usual, Da,” she replied, unwinding her scarf and removing her hat. “I’m starving.”

“Sig’s got supper on now, so it should be ready when we get home,” Bard told her.

“Yippee! I hope we have something good for dessert.”

“We have Oreos, I think. You can have those with milk, I know you like that.”

“Mmm, yes. They’re good when they get soggy.”

“The best,” Bard grinned.

Once they arrived home and got in the house, they were greeted by a wonderfully pleasant aroma. Sigrid stood in front of the sink, emptying water from a pot.

“Hey, honey,” Bard greeted, “smells good in here.”

“I made potatoes, too. Just draining them now. I’ll add a little garlic and butter to make them even better. The chicken is done. It’s there on the stove top.”

“Thanks, Sig. You make a wonderful chef.”

Sigrid grinned, finally turning to meet Bard’s eyes. “Thanks, Da. I tried.”

“Tilda is starving, so I’ll go up and change out of my work clothes and then we can eat, okay?”

“Sounds good, Da. I’ll get the table set. Bain’s in the basement painting, I think. So I’ll call him up.”

“Make sure he washes his hands, please.”

“Yup, I know.”

Bard took the stairs two at a time, stripped off his dirty work clothes and threw them into the hamper. He put on jeans and a tee and found Tilda coming out of the washroom.

“You washed up, Tilly?”

“Yeah, hands are all washed! See?” She held her hands out to Bard so he could smell them.

“Mmm, smells like strawberries.”

“We need more of that hand-soap, we’re almost out and it’s my favourite.”

“I’ll put it on the shopping list,” Bard said, heading into the bathroom to wash his hands with the same strawberry-scented soap his daughter had used.

Tilda waited on him, so they both headed down the stairs together. Bain was already at the table, holding his knife and fork impatiently while Sigrid fetched juice from the fridge.

“Bain, I’m not serving you, so get up and get it yourself,” Sigrid shook her head, plating her own food and taking a seat in her usual spot.

Bard gave Bain a look and his son got up from his seat and grabbed a plate from the counter. Bard got a plate up for Tilda, set it on her placemat and then proceeded to dish up for himself once Bain was finished. Bain didn’t leave much left over; he never did, always hungry. If Bard hadn’t needed to eat as well, Bain probably would have eaten a lot more. Bard took the last piece of chicken, a small helping of mashed potatoes and a few pieces of steamed broccoli. He left enough for Bain if he wanted more.

“That’s not much food, Da,” Sigrid commented when Bard took his seat at the table.

“I’m not that hungry, honey,” he said, schooling his lips into a smile. “Thanks again for making us supper. Bain, Tilda, thank your sister for making supper.” He looked at the two youngest children.

“Thank you, Sig,” they chorused. Bain was shoveling food into his mouth so fast that his words were barely more than a mumble. Tilda laughed at him before tasting her potatoes.

“Da, can you cut my chicken?”She asked.

“Of course, honeybee,” Bard agreed, grabbing a knife and cutting her portion of chicken into bite-sized pieces. “There, that better?”

“Yes, perfect! Thanks, Da.”

Supper was a quiet affair after that. Like Bard had expected, Bain went back for more, successfully emptying all pots and pans of any remaining food. Bard ate his meal quickly, cleaned up his dishes and went to the entrance hall to fetch his phone from his coat pocket.

He sat down on the sofa and opened his texts. He typed out a message to Thranduil.

[To: T] 6:01pm – I’m home, just need to clean up supper and shower. You still want me to come over?

[From: T] 6:02pm – yeah, if you can. Take your time.

[To: T] 6:02pm – I can be there around 7, that okay?

[From: T] 6:02pm – that’s good. Text me when you leave. See you soon

[To: T] 6:03pm – k, see you soon

Why was their text conversation so formal? It felt weird. No nicknames, no hearts, no smiley faces. The realization hit Bard again. Thranduil was going to break up with him. Of course he wasn’t going to text like they were lovers.

 

***

Thranduil felt better after he’d texted Bard. Even though he had no idea how their conversation would go, at least now he was no longer ignoring the issue. He’d asked Bard to come over after work and sincerely hoped that his request would not inconvenience Bard in any way – the man had children to care for, and Thranduil didn’t want to take him away from his responsibilities. Luckily, Bard said he would come over after supper. Thranduil would finally be able to clear the air, find out the events of that day from Bard’s point of view. He’d realized just how much he’d overreacted the past few days and did not want to let his distorted thoughts ruin what could be, and already was, a wonderful relationship with Bard. Thranduil knew they could have something special if only he put aside his negativity, got out of his own head and listened to whatever Bard had to say. He knew that it wouldn’t be easy for Bard to talk about something he’d so clearly been avoiding, so Thranduil would try his best to be as understanding as possible. He knew all about avoiding uncomfortable situations, so Bard had his empathy.

He tried not to plan out exactly what he wanted to say to Bard; he hoped that it would just come naturally in the moment. He didn’t want to have the whole thing choreographed – that would only set him up for a disaster if things didn’t go the way he’d planned. So he tried not to think about it.

There were things around the house that needed to be done.

The driveway needed to be shoveled, groceries needed to be done, laundry needed to be taken care of, so Thranduil went back upstairs and got dressed. For the first time this week, he put on his nice clothes. He put on a crisp, pale blue collared shirt, threw on a soft, knit sweater over top and slipped on his favourite dark grey pants. He looked himself over in the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt before brushing out his hair over his shoulders. He put on thick black socks and padded into the bathroom to clean his stitches. He didn’t want to have to go out in public with such a visible imperfection on his face for all to see, but he managed to talk himself out of his negativity. No one cared what he looked like; people had their own worries and had no time to think about him. And it’s not like he’d ever see the people in the grocery store again. And fuck it, he looked better than most of them anyway, stitches or not.

He trotted down the stairs and finished off his cup of yerba maté. Then, he threw a load of laundry into the washing machine. Now it was time to deal with the snow! So, he bundled himself up so he could go out and shovel the driveway. He’d never liked shoveling snow, but he did it without groaning too much. Once the driveway was clear, he took off his heavy winter jacket and exchanged it for a deep blue peacoat. He wound a grey scarf loosely around his neck and slipped on his black leather ankle boots. Legolas would be pleased that he’d forgone the ratty Uggs.

After a few more minutes of primping in front of the mirror, Thranduil grabbed his keys and made his way into the garage. He hadn’t driven the car since _that Saturday_. And he really didn’t want to, but he pushed past his anxiety. He had to do this. He was a fully grown adult and he needed to get food for himself and his son. There were no excuses he could make to put this off any longer. Instead of taking his Volvo, he decided he’d drive the Tesla today. Maybe the luxuriousness of the vehicle would help boost his confidence. Or just draw more attention to him, but whatever. He needed a little luxury. So he unplugged the car and got into the driver’s seat.

“Fucking driving,” he sighed.

He turned on the car, traced a finger over the built-in touch screen to adjust the heat and turn the music on low volume. He inched the car out of the driveway slowly and pressed a button on the device that would close the garage door behind him.

On the fucking road again, and he was still as nervous as always. Nothing ever helped quash his fear of driving. But he kept himself preoccupied with thoughts of what he was going to buy at the grocery store.

He wanted to get something good for dessert – maybe a New York style cheesecake with a raspberry sauce. Legolas liked cheesecake just as much as he did, so that was an easy decision. He needed to pick up salad, fruit, cheese, bread, eggs, milk – cow and almond – yogurt, granola, oatmeal…god, he pretty much needed to restock the refrigerator and pantry. The house was bare. Maybe he’d get Legolas his favourite cereal, nutella, pancake mix; all the good breakfast options. And chocolate. White, milk, dark – all of it.

He was thankful that he was getting the food shopping done on a weekday; the roads would be ten times busier on a weekend. When he was stopped at a red light, he remembered that he needed to get Christmas presents. Christmas Day was in a little over a week and Thranduil hadn’t even started his shopping yet. He made a quick decision to stop at the mall before doing the groceries. Doing it the other way around would mean he’d either have to stop at home to drop off the groceries, or let them sit in the car for god knows how long. So he made a detour and headed to the mall.

Of course, the parking lot was packed. Even on a weekday it couldn’t be avoided, not this close to Christmas. Didn’t people have day jobs? Why were there so many people here? Thranduil sighed and pulled in to the underground parking lot. He found a parking spot far from any other cars – he never liked parking near anyone else – and turned off the car. Then he stuffed his wallet into his pocket, along with his phone and headed into the chaos.

The noise in the mall was overwhelming, even more so because Thranduil hadn’t left the house in over a week. It was a shock to the senses. People looked at him as he walked into the department store entrance, but he didn’t make eye contact with anyone. He kept his eyes straight ahead and his head up. His mother had always told him how to conduct oneself in public – head held high, never look down and don’t forget to breathe. Alone in the confines of his home, Thranduil didn’t give a shit about his posture, but in public he was used to schooling himself into appearing far more important than he was; his mother had said he had a very regal air. He thought he just looked cold and distant; but it was an expression he’d perfected over the years, so he wore it with a graceful ease.

He got distracted easily and went into Bath and Body Works and ended up buying more candles than he’d ever use. But Legolas liked the sweet smelling ones, so he picked out three that he would give to his son for Christmas and then made his way into the next store. He bought clothes and shoes for Legolas; the boy was growing at an incredible rate and needed new clothes for the winter. He’d likely need more by the spring if he kept growing at this pace. He perused a few other stores, but none of them had anything suited for a nine-year-old, so he went back into the department store and looked in the toy section. He found a few items he remembered Legolas mentioning, so he picked those up, paid for them and headed back to the car.

God, it felt good to be out of that stuffy mall with all those weird people and sale associates that just wouldn’t stop staring at him! Thank the heavens he was free. He put his purchases in the backseat and pulled out of the parking spot, leaving the mall with a sense of accomplishment.

The art store was the next stop. He was running low on both oil and acrylic paint, as well as canvases; there were only so many times he could paint over the same canvas. When he got into the store he got a basket and began piling it full. A few times he’d been asked if he needed assistance, to which he declined, but he did take the offer to leave what he currently had in his basket at the cash so he wouldn’t have to lug it around the store.

While he was mulling over what size tube of titanium white to get, he felt a pair of eyes glued to him, following his every move. Did people not have manners? Why did they stare so blatantly? He looked over in the direction of the stare and found a short, violet-haired young woman looking at him. She quickly diverted her eyes, only to look back a few seconds later. Thranduil couldn’t tell if she worked there or was just a customer like him, but before he knew it, she began walking towards him.

His breath caught, not used to being approached by people, but he kept eye contact with her and a calm, serene expression on his face. She looked almost nervous, or shy. She couldn’t possibly work here.

“Um, hi,” she began tentatively. Thranduil smiled at her, prompting her to continue. “You don’t know me, but I know you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, you’re Thranduil Greenleaf, right?”

“Yes, that’s me. How do you know who I am?”

“You’re an amazing artist; I’ve seen all your work. I’m an art student and I was lucky enough to go to that workshop you did earlier this year at the Art Society. You’re such a good painter, I love your abstract pieces!”

Thranduil felt warm all of a sudden; he was probably blushing and doing a terrible job of hiding it. He offered the young woman a sincere smile and for a second, did not know what to say. It had been a long time since he’d heard such kind words from a stranger, and the gesture meant more to him than he could express.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

Her cheeks reddened and she waved a hand. “Only telling the truth. I hope you’ll do more of those workshops sometime soon. It was really great to see how you work, your process and all; you’re probably my biggest inspiration.”

God, such sweet words! Thranduil talked to his young admirer for a few minutes, telling her that he would try to schedule a time in the new year to hold another workshop, then he gave her some words of encouragement, hoping to continue to be an inspiration for this young woman. He was always happy to see people who were so passionate. It was more than just artistic ability and discipline that made a good artist – it was drive; something that this girl seemed to have a lot of. Their short conversation left Thranduil feeling renewed, motivated, and self-assured; he may doubt himself sometimes, but he had to be doing something right if he could ignite such a response from an inspiring artist.

Once they parted ways, he paid for his things and left the store with a smile on his face.

Grocery shopping went by in a blur and before he knew it, it was three o’clock. Legolas would be out of school by three-thirty, so there was no point in making him take the bus; Thranduil would just pick him up. He sent Legolas a text message to inform him not to get on the bus but to wait at the entrance of the school instead. While waiting for his son’s reply, Thranduil headed to the school. When he got there he found a place to park and waited. He ended up moving the bags containing his mall purchases into the trunk with the groceries so Legolas wouldn’t get too nosey.

Legolas’s response to Thranduil’s message was comprised of seven question marks and one confused-face emoji. Thranduil chuckled as he drove up to the front doors and spotted his son’s light blonde hair through the window.

[To: Legolas] 3:40pm – I’m in the Tesla, come out.

Within seconds, Legolas was bolting out of the school, waving goodbye to someone as he rushed to the car. He opened the back door and when Thranduil looked back at him, his little face twisted into a shocked expression.

“You’re – you’re…picking me up?! In the car?! Ada!” Legolas gasped, putting on his seat belt as Thranduil began pulling out onto the street.

“Yes, silly boy. I’m picking you up in the car.”

“The fancy electric car, too!” Legolas exclaimed, and then looked his father up and down. “And you’re dressed nice and, oh my god, no Uggs! It’s a Christmas miracle!”

Thranduil snorted. “Nope, no Uggs today.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“I went to get groceries, and art supplies, and Christmas presents.”

“Oooooh! What did you get for me?”

“I got cheesecake!”

“For my Christmas gift?” Legolas wailed, his voice going almost an octave higher. “It will go bad by then!”

“Not for Christmas, leaf. For tonight.”

“And for Christmas?”

“It won’t be that easy to extract information from me, so you’ll just have to wait and enjoy the surprise.”

“Is Bard coming over for Christmas this year, now that Galion is gone?”

Thranduil gulped. Legolas could be very blunt, very straightforward for such a young child. It didn’t shock Thranduil though; he had been the same way growing up – always spoke his mind, always asked questions.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Legs.”

“He’s your new boyfriend, though. And I like him. He’s nice.”

Thranduil grinned. “Yeah, you like him?”

“I don’t think he would hurt us. I think he wants to make us happy.” Legolas nodded.

“You’re right, he just wants us to be happy and he would never do anything to hurt us.” Thranduil said, reiterating the point as much to himself as he was to Legolas. “He wants to take us to the tree farm on Sunday to get a real Christmas tree.”

“Oh! He’s going to take us? Does he know how to cut the tree and everything?”

“Yes, he does, and apparently his youngest daughter is very good at picking out the best tree…”

“He has kids?”

“Yes, he has three, two daughters and a son. Tilda is supposed to be joining us. She’s a year younger than you.”

“Is she nice, too?”

“I’ve never met her before, but we can meet her on Sunday, if you’d be interested in tree hunting…”

“Yeah! I can teach her how to do cartwheels and we can play hide and seek in the trees!”

“I’m sure she would like that. Remember to be nice to her and treat her like you treat all your other friends.”

“Of course, Ada!”

The conversation quickly shifted into talk of school, homework and more mundane things, but Legolas was excited that he had only two days of school left before the holiday. Thursday he had a regular school day but Friday was only a half day and he would be done by noon. His teacher hadn’t assigned any homework for today so when they arrived home, Legolas went straight upstairs to take a shower.

Thranduil put away the groceries and hid the Christmas presents in the depths of his closet, and then he started boiling noodles and cooking chicken for tonight’s dinner. He was making chicken tetrazzini, one of Legolas’s favourite meals. Once the dish was assembled, he put it in the oven to cook; it would take at least an hour before it was ready. So, he went upstairs and changed into more comfortable clothes – leggings and a dark green t-shirt, with his favourite cardigan over top.

He went to the basement to transfer the clean laundry from the washing machine to the dryer and then went back up to the living room. He nestled on the couch and turned on the television, letting his thoughts wander.

Bard.

Yes, of course Bard was the first thing he thought of. What was their conversation going to be like? Would Thranduil lose his temper and yell at Bard, or would he stay calm and collected? It was rare for Thranduil to keep his cool in the face of such unease, especially when he felt he’d been wronged in some way. But no, he hadn’t been wronged. Bard didn’t purposely do anything to hurt him. He was helping. Thranduil kept reminding himself of that over the course of the hour.

The chicken tetrazzini was taken out of the oven and Thranduil put together a salad and then called his son downstairs to eat. Legolas was so hungry that he shoveled the food into his mouth, barely stopping for a breath. He went back for seconds and once they were both finished eating Thranduil cleaned up the dishes and tidied the kitchen.

As he was making a cup of tea for himself, he got a text message from Bard. His heart started pounding in his chest, so worried about what would conspire once Bard came over. Or would Bard cancel?

He checked his phone, glad to see that Bard had not canceled. He was going to come over after he’d cleaned up and took a shower. God, the thought of Bard in the shower send a pang of desire throughout Thranduil’s body. Despite his feelings since finding out about the video evidence, he could not deny his attraction to Bard.

It was quarter to seven and Legolas was back up in his room playing computer games. Thranduil went up and told him that Bard might come over for a bit and that he was going out in the garage to wait for him. Legolas nodded, but didn’t look away from the computer screen.

Thranduil opened the side door that lead into the garage and took a seat on the cement step. He set down his cup of tea and pulled a cigarette out of the pack. Then he sent a message to Bard.

[To: Bard] 6:53pm – I’m in the garage. It will be open so just come in.

He took a long drag of his cigarette and tried to still the pounding of his heart.

***

Jesus Christ.

Bard had never felt so sick. He trudged out to the car, sat there for a few seconds looking at Thranduil’s text message. Okay, he’s in the garage. He won’t even invite Bard into the house. There was no point to invite someone you were going to break up with into the house.

He sent a message back to Thranduil saying he was on his way now.

On the drive, he prepared himself for the worst. Of course, that did nothing to stop him from hoping for the best. Bard had always been an optimist; he always looked on the bright side, always tried to find solutions and work through problems rather than quitting. He wasn’t a quitter, and he didn’t want to be now. He needed to find a way to make Thranduil see just how sorry he was for crossing the line. He had no idea what his exact words would be, no idea how to get his point across without making a fool of himself. If Thranduil already had his mind made up then maybe there was no way to win him over.

The flurry of anxiety only grew when he turned onto Thranduil’s street. How had the drive gone by so quickly? With Thranduil’s house in view, Bard tensed, swallowing hard.

_Just breathe, everything will be okay._

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, idiot,” he mumbled as he pulled into Thranduil’s driveway. It was dark outside but he could see that the garage door was halfway open.

Fuck. Time to face the music.

First Madison left him, and now Thranduil was going to leave him, too.

Maybe he was just unlovable. Maybe he’d be alone forever.

At least he had his children.

But one day they would leave, too.

He slid out of his car and took slow, drawn-out steps towards the garage. He ducked under the door and looked around, trying to ignore the thumping in his chest, the way his hands shook uncontrollably.

He stuffed both hands in his pockets, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimness. He quickly realized just how big Thranduil’s garage really was. There was enough room for at least four cars, but only two were in here. The one he’d seen Thranduil driving and a fucking Tesla, plugged into the wall. Bard gulped, walked around the side of the cars and saw Thranduil sitting on the step, smoking a cigarette.

His breath hitched when Thranduil’s eyes locked with his. God, why did he look so calm, so distant? He was absolutely and utterly stunning. And although it was good to see that beautiful face again, the relief was short-lived. Thranduil was breaking up with him.

He felt it coming, he couldn’t stop it. He had no control over the word-vomit now.

“Oh, god, Thran! I’m so sorry!” The words poured out of his mouth at lightning speed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, that was never my intention –”

Bard would’ve continued rambling had it not been for the shift in Thranduil’s expression. His face went from cold and detached to utterly confused.

“What – what are you talking about?” Thranduil said, eyes narrow and brows knit together. The expression made Bard feel like he was being scrutinized.

“Last Saturday,” Bard explained, “I know I crossed the line, things went too far, I should have been more aware of that… I’m sorry, I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I swear.”

Thranduil still looked confused. He took a drag of his cigarette and shook his head. “No, no. That didn’t make me uncomfortable. Is that what you think I wanted to talk to you about?”

Bard took a deep breath. Why was Thranduil doing this? Why was he forcing Bard to say it? It would be much less cruel for him to just get it over with himself.

“Thran, I know what this is about. I think you called me here because… you want to dump me.” He mumbled the words out and kept his eyes cast downward, looking at his feet. When a few seconds went by without a reply, Bard glanced up at Thranduil.

The expression on Thranduil’s face was undecipherable, but it softened a little and he blinked slowly and exhaled another lungful of smoke. “Bard, that’s not at all why I called you here.”

_What?_

Did Bard hear things correctly? _‘We need to talk’_ wasn’t a euphemism for _‘I’m dumping you’_? His eyes grew wide in regard to Thranduil’s words.

“What? I – but – well, I thought…” Bard stood stock-still with his hands in his pockets; he still wasn’t sure he was hearing correctly.

“No, Bard. I don’t want to break up with you.” Thranduil’s lips turned up into a slight smile, albeit rueful.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. So please, just relax. Come, sit down.”

“What do you want to talk about then? I’m so worried I did something wrong, that I completely ruined everything.” Bard took a few steps towards Thranduil and sat down on the step beside him.

“You didn’t. I’m sorry I ignored you for the past two days. I just needed time to…process things…” Thranduil said, dropping his cigarette into a half-filled bottle of water. He immediately fished out another and lit it promptly.

“Process what?” Bard asked.

“This is hard for me to talk about, and I don’t want it to come off the wrong way, and I hope you don’t mind that I’m smoking, I can put it out if it’s bothering you…” Thranduil began speaking quickly, his words blending together, as if he’d been waiting a while to get out whatever was on his mind.

“No, Thran, the cigarette doesn’t bother me. Did something happen with your ex? Did he get bail or something and come after you?”

Thranduil shook his head. “No, it has nothing to do with him… Well, actually it kind of has something to do with him…”

Bard gave him a look to continue.

“So,” Thranduil exhaled sharply, “I spoke to the police department on Monday and I learned something that sort of fucked with my head…”

“Okay… What did you learn?”

“Well, the investigator told me about some sort of video evidence…”

Bard stood up. His mind went frantic, but his body froze, and he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. Thranduil didn’t have to say anymore, Bard knew exactly what he meant. Fuck.

“Oh, shit…”

“Yeah…” Thranduil spoke softly. Bard could see him fidgeting with the hem of his shirt out of the corner of his eye.

He understood now why Thranduil had avoided him, but he had no idea what to say, no idea how to make it right. He took a few steps away from Thranduil, gulped and ran a hand over his face, keeping it over his mouth for a few long moments.

“Just tell me it didn’t mean what I think it meant…”

“What do you think it meant?” Bard asked meekly, barely getting the words out; he’d lost his voice.

Thranduil took another drag and then said, “That you enjoyed watching it. But I know how stupid that sounds. You’re not like that at all.”

God, how could Thranduil think he enjoyed watching such a horrible thing?! He knew he probably wore the most horrified expression on his face right now. He was likely whiter than the snow. He ended up hurting Thranduil after all, all because he was too pathetic to do anything else.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Please sit back down, come on. It’s okay.”

Bard didn’t move, couldn’t move. He struggled to catch his breath as Thranduil’s hands clasped his arms, turned him around and pulled him down to the step again. Bard sat, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

“There, better. Relax, please.”

Bard reached over to take the cigarette, took a long drag and then held it back out to Thranduil. He exhaled the smoke in one long, shuddering breath. He tried to compose himself enough to speak. Thranduil was staring at him with a very worried look contorting his beautiful features.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” Bard managed to choke out the word. He was so far from okay right now. But he needed to tell Thranduil exactly what happened. “Do you want me to tell you what happened that night? From my point of view?”

“If that’s what you want…”

“What I want is for none of it to have ever happened, but it did and I can’t change that.”

Thranduil hummed. “I know. I don’t like re-living it, but I will if you’d like to tell me your side…”

Bard nodded and took a deep breath.

“We were at the restaurant,” he began, recalling that evening as best he could. “I was so thrilled to see you again, so glad that we were meeting up again, and then…that fucker burst in and started talking shit, and it was clear you only went out with him to stop him from making a scene, but it just didn’t feel right, I knew something was wrong, so I watched you, watched him yell and get angry at you and then I saw him push you into the car and I knew you didn’t want any of it, so I followed in my car, freaking out the entire time – I had no idea what to do – but I didn’t think of that, I just kept driving. I never expected anything as bad as what happened to happen, but I had a bad feeling, so I didn’t want to leave you alone to deal with him.” Bard choked out a shaky exhale and tried to steady his voice. He didn’t dare look at Thranduil, he kept his eyes on his hands. “I parked down the street, and got really worried when I saw that your car doors were still open, as if he had been so angry he just forced you into the house, so I ran up to the window, not knowing what else to do, and fuck…

Bard stopped and ran his hands over his face. Thranduil knew this part; he knew what happened better than anyone. Bard didn’t need to say it all over again.

“He was screaming and got really violent, so I called the cops – I told them what he was doing and that I wanted to break the door down, but they fucking told me not to get involved. They said if I confronted him that he might kill you, or me – that things would only escalate and then I’d be a part of it instead of just a witness.” Bard glanced over at Thranduil to gauge how his story was being received. In the darkness, Thranduil appeared to be wincing, but he allowed a small nod. Bard took that to mean it was alright for him to continue, so he did.

“Fuck, Thran. I couldn’t just let that happen, could I? I couldn’t let that fucker get away with what he was doing, so I panicked and got out my phone, held it up to the window and let it record. If I couldn’t break down the door, at least I could get it all on tape to prove what he did. I couldn’t bear to watch it, I just held the phone up and looked away, I think I was so disturbed that I may have hallucinated, because within seconds the police arrived and broke down the door. And how was that better than what I wanted to do?!” Bard clenched his fists, gritting his teeth hard. Just talking about this got him worked up. He didn’t know what else to say, just as he didn’t know what to do on that day. And no matter what he told himself, or what Thranduil might say to him, nothing would take away the guilt he felt about what he did, and didn’t do. “So…yeah, that’s what happened.”

Thranduil’s sharp breath drew his attention. He flinched, expecting to be yelled at so before Thranduil could speak, Bard cleared his throat and spoke. “God, Thran, I am so sorry. I never wanted to do anything to hurt you.”

He looked away, but not quick enough to miss the way Thranduil closed his eyes and shook his head.

“What?” Bard asked, awaiting the onslaught. Maybe Thranduil didn’t have plans to break up with him before, but now…now Bard wasn’t sure.

“I just…feel so fucking foolish for ever believing your intentions were anything less than honorable.”

Bard shrugged. “I understand. I felt so useless. I’m sorry, Thran.”

“You did what you could. Don’t be sorry,” Thranduil mumbled. “And…I’m the one who should be sorry for ignoring you for the past two days…”

“Well, it made me sick, I can tell you that.”

“I guess that’s a good sign. I only wish I would’ve heard it from you and not from that investigator…”

The guilt hit Bard again, like a maggot eating away at his insides. “I know…I should have told you, but….I didn’t know how…”

“Did you plan on telling me eventually?”

“I wanted to. It’s been on my mind since it happened. But how was I supposed to tell you such a thing? What I did sounds fucking sick. I feel like a horrible person. I wanted you to be okay before I told you, I didn’t want to make things go sour between us, and now I’m afraid that’s what I’ve done.”

“No, you haven’t,” Thranduil said, but Bard wasn’t so easily convinced. “But…”

“But, what?”

“Did you watch it?”

Bard’s head jerked up to meet Thranduil’s gaze. “Did I… watch it?”

“How many times?”

“Jesus, Thran, I didn’t watch it once – I told the cops I had it, then I sent it to them and once they told me they had it, I deleted it.”

“Thank the gods.”

“Did you think I wanted to watch it?” Bard grimaced, biting the inside of his cheek. How could Thranduil think he would want to watch something so tragic and heartbreaking? It hurt Bard to even think about what happened to Thranduil. God, how would he feel if that were him? How would he get through it with a straight face? He wouldn’t, that’s for sure – he’d be a mess.

“I mean….yeah, I thought so at first, but that was just my initial reaction – which was an overreaction. It was stupid and irrational, and now that I’m thinking clear and I’ve heard your side, I don’t think you wanted to watch it.”

“That’s why I didn’t know how to tell you – because I thought you’d think I was sick to do it.” He looked down again and stared at his shaking hands. He grasped onto his knees to try to ground himself, but he still felt like he was being consumed by his guilt. He was an awful, disgusting person; he didn’t blame Thranduil for thinking that he watched the video. What kind of a person filmed their potential lover getting beaten and raped? It took a sick, twisted mind to do such a thing. Normal people didn’t do things like that. Normal people ran away. Normal people minded their own business. But how could he when he cared so much about Thranduil?

“I did think you were sick at first,” Thranduil said quietly, “but then I thought about it from your perspective. Hey, are you okay?”

“How can I be okay when the cops told me not to do anything and the best I could come up with was…that? Jesus, the whole thing made me sick. I feel so bad, Thran.”

 “It’s okay, Bard, really. You did all that you could. I’m sure you were panicking, not knowing what to do. I don’t think you’re some creepy pervert who wanted to watch something like that, okay?”

“God, I would’ve much preferred to kick your ex’s ass down the street to the sewer and help him inside.”

Thranduil let out a little snort. “If you would’ve gotten involved it would’ve been so much worse. So you did the right thing.”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t feel like I did the right thing. I just didn’t want that fucker to get off scot-free.”

“Well, there you go – you got solid evidence.” Thranduil said, fishing out another cigarette from the pack. He lit it and exhaled deeply.

Bard thought about it. “I guess so.”

“And yet you still feel bad,” Thranduil concluded, quirking a brow.

“Yeah,” Bard snorted, “Though I’m sure you feel worse.”

“I did, yesterday, the day before. I feel okay now though. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“I’m okay, Bard. I just want _you_ to be okay about this.”

“I’m trying.” Bard said as he took Thranduil’s cigarette and had a few drags. “I was just so pissed off that that bastard was hurting you and I was left with such a piss-poor thing to do about it, and I was sure I’d never get the chance to see you again, whether to comfort you, or be anything to you…” Before he knew it he’d smoked more than half of the cigarette. He held it back out to Thranduil, who took it gingerly.

“And that’s why you didn’t tell me, you were worried about how I’d react…”

“Not only that, I was worried about what you’d think of me. It was like…while he was hurting you, he was also ruining me as well, making me poison, making me just as sick and fucked up as him.”

“No, he didn’t ruin you. I think he ruined me. I feel like I’m…tainted…and you won’t want me after what he did…”

“He doesn’t have the power to ruin you for me.”

“Really? Even after seeing something so disgusting?”

“I told you, I didn’t see it.”

Thranduil sighed deeply, and took a long drag of the cigarette before dropping it into the water bottle. “Thinking about it makes me feel dirty, like I’m contaminated.”

“You aren’t to me,” Bard said, daring to trace a finger over Thranduil’s knee.

“I don’t want you to feel bad about what you did.”

Bard hummed. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Yes, I forgive you. Do you forgive me?” To Bard’s surprise, Thranduil reached a hand out and placed it over his. His breath caught; he wasn’t expecting the touch to feel so electric.

He nodded and looked into Thranduil’s eyes. “I understand how angry you must have been, thinking…what you thought…”

Thranduil’s grip on his hand tightened. “It was…unreasonable.”

“Do I – do I still have a chance with you?”

“You never lost your chance with me. It should be me worried about not having a chance with you.”

“Don’t say that. You didn’t do anything wrong. This is my fault.”

“Psh, don’t you say that. It’s not true.”

“So, we’re still a couple?” Bard asked.

“If you’ll still have me.” Thranduil said, glancing at Bard through long lashes.

The expression on Bard’s face slowly shifted from remorse to relief, and a small smile played on his lips. “It would be my great honor to have you.”

“Then we’re settled.” Thranduil let go of Bard’s hand and began rubbing small circles on his thigh.

“Can I ask something of you?”

“Yes, anything.”

“I think we need to have some ground rules, about communication and….honesty. I wasn’t honest with you up front and I should’ve been. I should’ve told you right away about that video, I shouldn’t have kept it a secret. So, I think that’s something we need to work on, or at least I do. Can we agree that if anything bad comes up again, that we try being honest and just say something about it?”

“Yes, honesty. Sometimes it’s hard for me to be honest and open myself up as well, so I understand why you kept that information to yourself. It stems from fear and insecurity – we worry what will happen if we reveal ourselves – I get it. But we’ll improve.”

“Yeah, I’m so used to not speaking up. For so long I’ve avoided saying things because it would only result in yelling matches, and I couldn’t deal with that, so eventually I just stopped expressing myself altogether.”

“You can express yourself with me, speak your mind, say what you feel. It’s important to let it out.”

“Just as important as telling the truth, which is what I should have done. I’m sorry, Thran.”

“Please, Bard, you don’t have to keep apologizing. I know you’re sorry, I know you didn’t want to hurt me, so please try to move past it. It happened, but it does not define us.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

“Why do you worry?”

“Because…I don’t know. I worry that it will always bother you, what I did, and that one day you’ll resent me for it.”

“I promise I won’t resent you. Sometimes shit happens and we just have to brush ourselves off and carry on.”

“Do you promise you’ll tell me if you start to feel bad about it, or if something I do triggers you in any way?”

“Yes, that goes along with our honesty rule. You have to do the same, yeah?”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“This is a learning experience for both of us, I think. We are allowed to make mistakes. If you want honesty, here is it: I have no idea how to act in a relationship. I’m used to being controlled and manipulated and never really having a say in anything, and I hated that. I lost myself after my wife died and I put myself in bad situations as some sort of twisted punishment – toxic and unhealthy relationships that fucked with my self-worth. I haven’t had a healthy relationship in years, so it might take me some time to figure shit out, but you mean a lot to me so I’m willing to try. I feel safe with you, I feel like I can be myself, and that’s more than I have ever felt in the past.”

Hearing Thranduil’s confession made Bard’s smile grow wider. He didn’t know he made Thranduil feel safe, but that’s all he could ever want, to be someone Thranduil felt comfortable with, some who could treat him the way he deserved to be treated.

“Thran. I’m so glad that you feel safe with me, that’s what you deserve. I want to give you the best, because you are the best and you mean so much to me. I understand the toxic relationships – I was in one for sixteen years and I didn’t have the courage to leave, so I’m still learning, too. We can do this together, discover ourselves, discover each other…”

“Yes, that’s all I could ask for.”

“Me, too. So, we’re good, then?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“Thank god, I’ve been worrying myself sick.”

“I could tell.”

Bard let out a sigh of relief and ran his hands through his hair. “So, what do you have planned for the rest of this week?”

“Well, I think I need to go to the police station tomorrow. I’ve been putting it off, so I just need to suck it up and get it over with.”

“That’s good. What did they want to talk about, the evidence?” Bard winced, hoping it wasn’t a mistake to bring up the same unpleasant topic immediately after making up with Thranduil.

“Yeah, that’s what the investigator said. He said I might need a lawyer, too, if all this shit ends up sending me to court.”

“You think it will?”

“Apparently Galion wants to plead not-guilty…for the time being, at least.” Thranduil shook his head.

Bard gaped, his eyes wide. “How can he plead not-guilty with all the evidence proving otherwise?”

“He’ll say that I wanted it – that it was consensual.”

“That’s messed up.”

“I know. That’s him – a true piece of shit. So he’ll try to make a case against me, but hopefully he’ll eventually back down and plead guilty. I’d much rather not go to court to tell the fucking jury my sad little sob story. People aren’t very sympathetic towards males, you know.”

Bard grimaced. “Isn’t that kinda sexist?”

“Yeah, they figure men should be able to defend themselves. It’s going to be humiliating talking to this investigator. He sounded like a…. _real man_.”

“A real man?” Bard raised a brow.

“Like, manly and rugged…and judgmental. Not so gay-friendly, I assume.”

“Maybe he’ll surprise you.”

“I hope. He did say that he wanted to personally take on my case, though I don’t know why. I think he just wants to lock Galion up. The fucker has a record, you know, priors or whatever they call it.”

“You mean he’s done this kind of thing before?”

“I’m not sure, but he has committed other crimes – drug related things, violence, disturbing the peace – stuff like that.”

“That would increase his sentence, right?”

“It would, especially if I document all the times he’s done _things_ to me.”

“He’s done…that…before?” Bard asked in a low voice.

“Yeah, not as bad, but he has, yes. A few time, actually. I usually just went along with it and didn’t put up a fight. Had to keep the peace somehow.”

A lump formed in Bard’s throat and he fought to swallow it. “Oh, Thran,” he sighed. It made him sick that Thranduil had been forced into such horrible situations that he felt he had to go along with. “If they don’t lock that fucker up for life, I will have to go after him myself…”

“Let’s just hope he has a shitty lawyer.” Thranduil snorted, rolling his eyes. “It would be a real slap in the face if he hired my father to represent him in court.”

“Your father?” Was Thranduil’s father a lawyer? He must be.

“He’s a criminal defense attorney, helping out all the scumbags of the world, keeping them out of prison.” Thranduil made a face and ran a hand through the length of his hair.

“Really?”

“Yeah. If you can’t tell by my chagrin, I don’t get along with him. I doubt he’ll be Galion’s attorney, as Galion could never afford him. But imagine my fucking luck. Anyway, enough of the heavy talk. What are you up to this weekend? We still on for Sunday, the tree farm?”

Bard was surprised at how easily Thranduil shifted into casual talk, but he was glad for it. “Yes, of course. Tilda is very excited to help you guys pick out a tree. She’s looking forward to meeting Legolas.”

“Aw, that’s good. Legs is very excited to meet her as well.”

“Glad to hear it. On Saturday the kids decided they would like to cook dinner and make a cake for my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday on Saturday?”

“Yeah, December nineteenth.”

Thranduil playfully smacked Bard’s bicep, a mock-offended expression on his face. “And you didn’t tell me!”

Bard grinned. “I never had a chance, so I’m telling you now. Just please don’t buy anything for me.”

“I want to give you something,” Thranduil put on a pouty face.

“No, no, Thran,” Bard quickly protested, “don’t spend your money on me.”

“I can give you a gift without spending money, you know.” Thranduil smirked, rubbing his hand over Bard’s thigh.

“What’s that supposed to mean, you bastard?” Bard chuckled.

“Some gifts don’t cost anything. But if you don’t want to see me in lace, then feel free to protest some more…”

“Lace?” Bard gasped. “I would never say no to you in lace.”

“Well, then, what are you doing Friday after work?”

“You,” Bard teased, drawing a snicker from Thranduil. “No, you know I’m just playing,” he added.

“Play all you want, as long as it’s with me.”

“Only if you’re okay with that.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“I imagine it would be my pleasure, as well.”

“Oh, yes. If I’m not allowed to give you a material gift, then I’ll have to give you something even better, something that you’ll never forget.”

“You’re such a bastard,” Bard smiled.

“I am,” Thranduil smiled back. “So, Friday at say, seven?”

“That sounds good, doll.”

“Good. You sound more like yourself now. I’m glad.”

“I do feel better. It helps when you tease me.”

“I can tease you as much as you need.”

“Thanks.” Bard leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to Thranduil’s cheek.

“It’s not entirely altruistic; teasing you helps me feel better, too. Especially when you tease back.” Thranduil turned his head to face Bard, tracing his fingertips over Bard’s cheek and running his thumb along Bard’s bottom lip.

Bard let out a sigh and kissed Thranduil’s thumb. Then, Thranduil leaned in closer, letting Bard cup his face and press a gentle kiss on his lips. God, Thranduil’s lips were so soft, so plump, so kissable. It was a blessing that Bard was still allowed to kiss him after such tribulation. 

“I missed you,” Thranduil whispered between kisses, “so much.”

Bard smiled against Thranduil’s mouth. “I missed you, too. And I’m sor—”

“No, no, no, none of that.” Thranduil stroked Bard’s hair. “You’re not allowed to say you’re sorry anymore.”

Bard replied with a kiss and then another, and another.

After a few more minutes of shared affection, Bard regretfully told Thranduil that he had to get back home to see to the children. Thranduil bid him farewell with a warm embrace and a reminder of their date on Friday night.

Bard felt much lighter on the drive home.

Everything was okay.

 


	19. Chapter 19

As soon as Bard left, Thranduil exhaled a sigh and slumped back against the door. What a relief it was to be on good terms with Bard again! Thranduil felt like he could finally breathe. He’d been so worried, so fearful of what would conspire during this conversation with Bard that he’d done things over the past two days that he was not proud of. He should’ve talked to Bard as soon as he found out about the video, as soon as the issue arose; it would’ve saved them both a lot of grief. But he hadn’t, so all he could do now was take it as a lesson learned – don’t try to predict the future, don’t try to read people’s minds. He was glad that they were going to work on their communication and honesty. Thranduil had always had problems opening himself up to others, but he felt he could trust Bard.

Despite his feeling of relief, Thranduil still felt bad for ever doubting Bard to begin with. He’d worried Bard so much by making the stupid decision to avoid his problems instead of face them. He’d been hurtful when he shared his assumption that Bard had watched the video. It was all just so irrational! Bard was a kind and gentle soul, not someone who would ever purposely hurt him. He was nothing like Galion, nothing like what Thranduil was used to. It was as if Thranduil had to relearn everything he knew about being in a relationship. He’d been conditioned to be cautious and wary of people’s motives, but things were different with Bard. He needed to change so he wouldn’t hurt Bard again. Thranduil had often fell into patterns of self-destructive thinking, always based on his perceived belief that everyone was out to get him, that no one could be trusted. But slowly, he felt Bard had begun to break down those walls.

He tried not to think about the things he’d done wrong, but the thoughts still plagued him nonetheless. Thranduil closed the garage door and went into the house. He put the almost-empty pack of cigarettes into his coat pocket which he hung up in the closet. Then he took his still-full mug of tea and put it in the microwave for forty seconds. As he waited for his tea to heat up, Legolas came thundering down the stairs.

“Ada!”

“What’s up, Leaf?”

“Can I have something to eat?”

“You’re still hungry?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, it’s eight o’clock, so only something small. What would you like?”

“Toast with peanut butter?” Legolas looked at him with big, unblinking eyes – pleading eyes. The boy could talk Thranduil into almost anything with those eyes.

“Okay, have a seat and it’ll be ready in a minute.” Thranduil said as he took his now warm tea from the microwave.

He put a piece of bread into the toaster and got the butter and peanut butter out of the pantry. Legolas sat down, but Thranduil could feel his son’s inquisitive eyes watching his every move. Once the bread was toasted to Legolas’s liking, Thranduil first added butter and then peanut butter, spreading it smoothly over the piece of toast. He took the toast over to his son and set it on the table in front of him.

“There you go.” He began absently running his fingers through Legolas’s hair, gathering it all at the back of his head. He took a hair tie off his wrist and put his son’s unruly hair into a ponytail.

“Thanks.” Legolas squirmed, swatting at Thranduil’s hands.

“Welcome, leaf.” Thranduil said, going back to the counter to grab his tea.

“Um…Ada?”

“Yeah?” He turned back around to give Legolas his full regard. “What’s wrong?”

“Is, uh, everything okay now?” Legolas asked in a small voice.

“What do you mean?” Thranduil stared at the mug in his hand, focusing on the way the liquid rippled when he swirled it. His bad behavior had clearly affected Legolas, even when he thought he’d kept his emotions so well concealed.

“You’re not drunk today, are you?”

Thranduil gulped, swallowing so hard it hurt. “No, Legs, I’m not drunk. I’m sorry that I worried you.” His voice wavered when he spoke, but luckily Legolas didn’t notice, or just didn’t care.

“Were you sad because of Bard? Is everything okay with him?”

Thranduil hummed. He wouldn’t tell his son what had happened with Bard; Legolas was too young to understand. “Everything is fine.”

“You weren’t drunk when you picked me up today, were you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Legs.”

“I hope not. I don’t want you to die like mommy.”

“Legolas…” Thranduil’s throat tightened at the mention of Emilia. He felt horrible for upsetting his son. He never wanted to do anything to worry Legolas.

“I don’t want to be alone, and if you die, then I’ll have no one.”

At once, Thranduil put down his tea and marched over to Legolas, looking his son in the eyes. “You will never be alone. I’m not going to die any time soon, Legs. Everything is okay, sweet boy.” He bent down to wrap Legolas in a tight embrace.

“I don’t only want you to not die; I want you to be happy, too. You scared me the other day.” Legolas all but whispered.

“I’m so sorry, Leaf. I will never do that to you again. I promise.” He kissed Legolas on the forehead, and ran a hand over the top of his head, brushing back any stray hairs. “Do you forgive me?”

“Yes, of course.”

After Legolas had voiced his concern, he ate his toast in relative silence as Thranduil finished his cup of tea. He fetched his laptop from the sitting room and took a seat beside Legolas at the kitchen table. Then, he went on the internet and began searching for houses. Eventually, Legolas headed upstairs so he could read a bit before bed, but Thranduil continued his search for the perfect house. He searched for over an hour, but kept going back to look at the same house. It had been on the market for a while, and the price had dramatically lowered. It was also located quite close to Legolas’s school and only a short walk from a Whole Foods and local drug store. Thranduil wrote down the contact information for the real estate agent and made a plan to call them tomorrow to see if he could make an offer on the house. He felt a little spark of excitement at the prospect of moving to a new place, somewhere he and Legolas could have a fresh start. It would be a blank canvas just waiting for him to make it beautiful. He thought about painting a mural in Legolas’s new room and maybe building him a tree-house bed. Legolas had always wanted his bedroom to have a theme, something with deep greens and earthy tones. A forest mural would be perfect, with tiny LED lights installed into the wall to imitate the look of fireflies in the night sky.

He got caught up in his thoughts of decorating before Legolas came downstairs in his pajamas for a glass of milk. Thranduil took Legolas back upstairs after he’d had his milk to tuck him in for the night. Tomorrow would be his last full day at school before the holidays. Thranduil was already planning on picking Legolas up on Friday when school was let out at noon so they could go to the park or to the jewelry store to pick up Hal’s Christmas gift.

Legolas brushed his teeth and got into bed as Thranduil pressed a kiss to his forehead and turned off his lamp.

“I love you, little leaf.” Thranduil said, pulling the covers up to Legolas’s chin.

“I love you, too, Ada. Goodnight.”

“Night, sleep well.” He tapped Legolas’s nose before closing his son’s door behind him.

He went back downstairs and looked online to get decorating ideas for his new house. He looked over the pictures of the house again – luckily there were plenty of photos of each room on the website – and tried to visualize the spaces empty, filled with his own furniture. The thought made him smile. The house may be a little bit big for just two people, but maybe one day his family would grow...

He thought of Bard and his children in the house with him and Legolas. He didn’t even know Bard’s children yet, but he imagined them in the house anyway, how nice it would be to have a house full of laughter. Unlike this tainted place he was stuck in now; just four walls and a roof – that’s all this house was.

After he’d printed pictures of the house, he searched online for therapists. He went on the website of the agency he used to go to, wrote down the phone number and decided he would call tomorrow to see if he could make an appointment to see someone. He thought about the ‘ground rules’ he made with Bard. Honesty. He knew he was not being fully honest with Bard. There was still a secret he kept. If he went back to therapy, maybe he would be strong enough to tell Bard about it.

Thranduil sighed, turned off his computer and made the rounds of the house. The front door was locked, the garage door was locked, all the lights were off, so he headed upstairs to take a shower.

The stitches on his head were staring him down when he looked into the mirror. He should’ve gotten them removed a few days ago. He could always cut them out himself… but the thought made him queasy. He added the removal of stitches to his to-do list for tomorrow. Along with…calling back Investigator Dylan Fundin. He couldn’t keep putting that off. No more running from his problems, it was time to take action and get things done.

As he showered he tried not to worry too much about all the things he needed to do tomorrow, instead he thought about the new house. He’d like to do his room in a dusty blue-green colour, with grey or silver accents, something simple but elegant. Blue was a good colour for Bard. God, no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop thinking about Bard. On Friday he’d get to give Bard a special birthday present, and while he was nervous about it, he was much, much more excited.

Once he was finished in the shower, he dried off and brushed his teeth, then headed to bed. It was still early for him, but he wanted to get a good night’s sleep before all the errands he had to run tomorrow.

He settled into bed with his mobile. He had a few missed texts from Hal, who was just dying to know what happened with Bard. Thranduil didn’t bother replying; it would only get Hal worked up, and when Hal got worked up he rambled. That would end up keeping Thranduil awake a lot later than he wanted, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to text Hal back in the morning. He typed out a goodnight message to Bard and plugged his phone in and set it on the bedside table.

As he was drifting off to sleep, he made a mental note to pick up some new lingerie from the mall tomorrow. Bard deserved something pretty to unwrap for his birthday.

Morning came quickly. Thranduil got a lunch packed for Legolas before his son had even woken up. Then Thranduil got himself dressed, brushed out his hair and went to wake Legolas up. They went downstairs together to have breakfast and tea, and once they were finished and dishes were in the dishwasher, Legolas headed back upstairs to brush his teeth and finish getting ready.

Legolas was excited that school was almost over for the holidays. He walked with a slight bounce in his step and danced around the kitchen as Thranduil made himself another cup of tea.

“I’m going to drop you off today, okay?” Thranduil announced, sipping at his tea.

“Oooh, in the Tesla?”

“Yup, in the Tesla.”

“Are you picking me up, too?”

“I can if you want me to.”

“Yeah! Please, Ada, it’s so much better going home in the car than the smelly bus!”

Thranduil chuckled, imagining how foul a bus full of children must smell at the end of the school day. “Okay, leaf, I’ll pick you up.”

Thranduil helped Legolas into his winter clothes and they headed out into the garage to get in the car. On the drive to the school, Thranduil told Legolas what his plans were for the day – shopping, getting his stitches taken out and perhaps a call to the real estate agency to see about the house he had his eye on. He left out the part about calling the investigator, and the part about getting lingerie from the mall.

“A new house?!” Legolas wailed, looking at Thranduil in shock. “We’re going to move?”

“Yes. I want us to live in a new place, a place that we can make our home, someplace that is ours. Without the memories of…”

“Galion.” Legolas finished.

“Exactly. You understand? We need a fresh start.”

“Yes, I think so, too. Will I have to change schools? Will we move far?”

“No, you’ll go to the same school, don’t worry about that. And it won’t be far. It’s about a five minute drive from here, leaf. Closer to school.”

“Ohhh, that’s good! Did you find a house yet?”

“Yes. There is one I like. I’m going to call about it today if I have time, maybe make an offer.”

“Is it nice?”

“Yes, I can show you pictures when you get home from school today, okay?”

“Okay!” Legolas cheered. It seemed he was just as excited about moving to a new house as Thranduil was. Thranduil would bet that he’d be even more excited once he heard the plans about the mural for his bedroom. He’d save that bit of information for later, though; something to look forward to.

Thranduil dropped Legolas off at school and headed to his doctor’s office. He didn’t know if his doctor was even working today, or if she had time to see him, but he went anyway in the off chance that there was space available. Otherwise he would just go to a walk-in clinic to get the stitches removed. He arrived at the doctor’s office at just past nine o’clock. He was stressing out about his stitches and the explanation he would have to give his doctor when she asked. He smoked a cigarette by the car, shivering in the cold. Then, he mustered up his courage and went into the office.

It must have been his lucky day because someone had cancelled and his doctor was able to see him in fifteen minutes, so he took a seat and waited. The National Geographic documentary playing on the television lulled him into a trance-like state and he jumped when the nurse called him back into the room. He had to have his blood pressure taken and told the nurse the reason for his visit. She told him his doctor would be with him shortly, and then he went back to waiting.

Thranduil tried to steady his breath, preparing his speech in his head of exactly what he would say when his doctor asked him about the stitches. Actually, now that he thought about it, she probably knew everything already. All his files from the hospital were sent to her, so she must know. But the fear of having to say it himself, out loud, scared Thranduil to no end.

When his doctor entered the room, Thranduil immediately calmed. She’d been his doctor for over six years and she knew him well. She had a very assuring presence. There was no need for Thranduil to fret. He told her why he was there as she opened up his file on the computer screen in front of her. She nodded at the screen and relayed the most current information to him. It was hard to listen to; hearing about the tests from the hospital and being asked how he was doing now. But his doctor never made him feel scrutinized; she was very non-judgmental about the whole thing, which eased Thranduil’s anxiety a bit. At the hospital, as was procedure, he’d been tested for any STDs which he was relieved to find out had come back negative. So, his doctor gently removed his stitches and cleaned the area. He was free to go, but he didn’t leave. He took the opportunity to ask his doctor if she could refer him to a therapist or psychologist or someone that could help him. He figured he would get in faster with a referral from a doctor. She’d referred him a previous time, a few years back, but after Emilia died he stopped going. His doctor agreed that having someone to talk to would be beneficial. She brought up the option of going back on medication, and told him she could provide him with a referral to see a psychiatrist as well. Thranduil had never liked relying on medication; he felt it became a crutch, something one couldn’t survive without. He didn’t want to be bound to anything so strongly. He hoped he could get through his problems on his own, so he refused the psychiatrist referral for the time being, but stayed open to the idea for the future. If therapy didn’t help, maybe he would go back on medication. He was told that he would be contacted within the next week about an appointment with a therapist.

He left the doctor’s office feeling like he had been quite productive. He’d killed two birds with one stone, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

His next stop was the mall. Again.

Why was he back at this godforsaken place? He hated the mall, hated the crowds. But, today, the stitches were out and he felt a little less self-conscious.

He marched straight towards Victoria’s Secret, not giving a shit who was staring at him. He was going to get something sexy to wear for Bard tomorrow night. Of course, all the shoppers in the store were female, but that didn’t dissuade Thranduil. A sales associate asked him if he needed help, wording it as if she believed he was purchasing something for a wife or girlfriend. He smirked in reply, and pointed to an outfit on a mannequin. He knew exactly what he was looking for and this was perfect. He ignored the bra that the mannequin wore; he wouldn’t need that. But the white lacy panties and the garter belt were perfection. They would look stunning with his thigh-high stockings.

The sales associate found the items for him in a drawer and he thanked her, letting her know he needed no further assistance. He draped the items that he wanted over his arm and continued to browse around. Women were looking at him and he flirted with them with his eyes, smothering his laughter which badly wanted to come bubbling out. On his way to the checkout, Thranduil spotted a beautiful white see-through robe. It looked almost like a kimono with its wide sleeves and short length. On a woman it would be short; on him it would be sinfully short; maybe even exposing his ass cheeks from the back. He had to have it. So he grabbed it in the largest size and got in line.

Once he had paid, he walked around the mall for a little while longer. He made a pit stop at the jewelry store that sold the infamous cupcake and crown cufflinks that Hal wanted so badly. Might as well get them now. So Thranduil went into the store, picked out the cufflinks and paid for them. Before he left the mall he stopped at his favourite tea shop to get a tea latte to go. Then, he drove home.

Once he arrived back at the house, he checked his phone. Shit. He’d forgotten to text Hal back and now he had three missed calls and six unread messages from his best friend.

The most recent message from Hal said that he was coming over now.

And then a bunch of knocks sounded at the door.

Thranduil set his tea down on the coffee table and dashed to get the door. Hal would not wait for anyone.

“Knock, knock, Thran! Let me in!” Hal’s voice was so loud it echoed through the door.

“Yes, Hal, I’m coming. Hold on!” Thranduil opened the front door.

“Oh my god, you bitch!” Hal exclaimed, flailing his arms and stepping in from the cold. He shrugged out of his coat and took off his boots, following Thranduil into the sitting room.

“Me? What did I do?” Thranduil said coyly.

“You’ve been ignoring me!”

“I was out!”

“Oh my god, Thran! You got the stitches removed!” Hal gasped, plopping himself down on the sofa.

“Yes, I got them removed this morning. And I went to the mall and got you your Christmas present!”

“My cufflinks!”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“You never do. Now,” Hal cast him a serious glance. “Did you talk to Bard? What happened? Don’t leave me hanging!”

“Do you want tea? Cheesecake?”

“Ohhh, tea please, cheesecake later!”

“Alright, then you’ll just have to wait for the details while I’m making your tea.”

“No, no, I’ll help. You talk.”

They headed into the kitchen together and Thranduil filled the tea kettle, while Hal chose the tea that he wanted from the cupboard.

“So…” Hal shot Thranduil a look. “I’m waiting…”

“God, Hal, can you be any less invasive? So, Bard came over last night, we talked, things are fine.”

“That’s only telling me the beginning and the end. I want the juicy middle! Now spill!”

“You were right about everything Hal.”

“Which means?”

“He only wanted to help me; he didn’t know what to do so he freaked out and filmed it because he wanted to get solid evidence to lock Galion up. He never watched it; he sent it to the cops and then deleted it. God, I can’t believe I actually thought he would do such a thing.”

“See? What did I tell you? Not everyone is like Galion.”

“Yes, Hal, I know. You were right, like usual.”

“As much as I enjoy being right, I really don’t care that I was right in this situation. I just hope you see that not everyone is a villain, not everyone wants to hurt you.”

“I still feel horrible for making Bard worry for so long. I should’ve just brought it up as soon as I found out. And my poor Leaf…”

“What about the Leaf?”

“He told me that I scared him and he was worried. He didn’t like that I was drunk and he asked me if I was drunk when I picked him up from school yesterday. He said he didn’t want me to die like Emilia.” Thranduil swallowed, ignoring the water that had come to a boil.

Hal poured the hot water into a mug and added the tea bag. “He would be devastated if anything bad ever happened to you.”

“And that’s why I have come to a decision.”

“A decision, about what?”

“I’m going back to therapy.”

“OH!” Hal exclaimed in delight. “That’s great news! I’m so proud of you, Thran.”

“Oh, psh,” Thranduil waved a hand. “It’s about time, right? It’s something I need to do. It’s not fair to Legolas that I keep living like this, and it’s not fair to Bard. I can’t be like this. I can’t keep overreacting and freaking out and drinking myself into a coma. I need to deal with shit. And maybe going back to therapy will help me tell Bard about the real issue…”

“Ah, yes. He does deserve to know.”

“What if he leaves me because of it?”

“If he leaves you because of that, then he’s not the right person for you. But, really, Thran, do you want my honest opinion?”

“Yeah…”

“I don’t think he would leave you. I think he cares way too much about you. He’ll understand; he won’t leave.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so, so quit worrying. Everything will be just fine!”

“I wish I could just shake this bad feeling I have. I feel like I’ve wronged him by assuming such a sick thing.”

“You felt what you felt; all you can do is learn from it. Can’t change the past.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“But you guys came to a resolution?”

“We have some communication and honesty rules now.”

“That’s good. A strong foundation starts with communication, as I always say.”

“And I’m seeing him tomorrow. For his birthday.”

“Ooooh, it’s his birthday tomorrow?”

“It’s on Saturday but he’s doing something with his kids then, so I asked him if he wanted to come over tomorrow night.”

“Did you get him a gift? Wink wink, nudge nudge.” Hal chuckled, making ridiculous motions with his hips.

“Oh, stop.” Thranduil laughed. “But yeah, I got him something…”

“Let me see! A box of condoms? A silicone mold of your ass?”

Thranduil snorted. “Where the fuck do you come up with these things? A silicone mold of my ass, really, Hal? No, I got him lingerie.”

“For him to wear?”

“No, for me to wear for him.”

“Ahhh, so you’re his present.”

“Exactly.”

“Will you let him unwrap you?”

“This is too much information for you.”

“That means yes.” Hal grinned.

“Now quit heckling me or I won’t tell you the real news.”

“What real new?”

“I don’t know,” Thranduil said, feigning an innocent grin. “I guess you’ll never know…”

Hal blew on his tea and let out a little chuckle. “I have ways of finding things out. Lacey from my hairdresser’s is quite the gossip, you know…”

“Lacey doesn’t know me.” Thranduil opened the fridge door and pulled out the cheesecake.

“Lacey knows everything about everyone. Now just tell me or I’ll have to ask around like a gossip slut.”

“I’m moving,” Thranduil announced, dishing up a piece of cheesecake onto a small plate for himself.

“Moving what? The cheesecake from the plate to your mouth?”

“That, too,” Thranduil laughed as he took a large bite of the creamy treat. Once he chewed and swallowed, he continued. “Moving houses, I mean.”

“Oh my god! Since when? Where are you moving? Why?” Hal shot the questions at Thranduil in rapid fire.

“Since I thought about it a few days ago, not sure where yet, and because this fucking house is tainted – Galion’s presence is haunting me and I want to be free.”

“Well, shit!” Hal had a look of shock mixed with utter jubilation on his face.

“You remember that house on Chartwell?”

“The one that’s been on the market for ages because it’s like twelve million dollars?! It’s gorgeous. I’ve looked at it online. It’s to die for, Thran!”

“Yeah, well, that’s the house I want. And FYI, the price has lowered; it’s only ten million now.”

“Only?!” Hal scoffed. “Did you make an offer yet?”

“Not yet, but I want to. I need to call the real estate agent today.” Thranduil told him.

“When do you plan on moving?” Hal asked, taking another sip of his tea.

“I would like to be out of this hellhole by the new year. A fresh start and all that crap.” Thranduil said between bites of his cheesecake. Only then did he realize that he had not offered Hal a piece. “Cheesecake?”

“Oh, no, no, I’m fine. I’ve eaten enough today to feed a small army.” Hal put both hands over his stomach.

“Already? It’s still early.”

“Ah, well, cupcakes were beckoning.”

“They always are.”

Hal ended up taking a few forkfuls of Thranduil’s cheesecake, while Thranduil told him about the lingerie he’d bought to wear for Bard’s birthday. And with enough badgering, Hal managed to get Thranduil to show him the white lacy garments.

“Oh. My. God! Thran!” Hal flailed. “You’re going to wear _this_?!” His eyes grew as wide as saucers and his mouth hung agape as he held up the skimpy underwear.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not. I’m in shock; I’m going into cardiac arrest! Look at how small this is in the front! Where’s the coverage?! This would barely cover a vagina! God, Thran!” Hal turned the garment around to examine the back. “And your ass is going to hang out!”

“My ass doesn’t hang!” Thranduil retorted, laughing.

“Well, protrude, then. That’s a more accurate term. Bard is going to make a mess when he sees you in this! He won’t be able to contain himself!”

“Well, luckily I’m an excellent house cleaner. A little mess does not deter me.” Thranduil smirked, grabbing the underwear out of Hal’s hands. He shoved it back into the bag, trying to conceal his excitement.

“What else is in the bag?”

“Nothing, nothing. No more questions.” Thranduil took the bag into the sitting room and left it beside the sofa. He didn’t need Hal’s commentary on the garter belt or the robe.

When Thranduil returned to the kitchen, Hal shook his head and smiled.

“I assume you’d like me to watch the leaf on Friday night, yes?”

“I wasn’t going to ask. I was just going to keep him here…”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea? Remember the time he walked in on—”

“Hal,” Thranduil chided, “I don’t need to be reminded. Please.”

“I can watch him so you can actually enjoy your time with Bard, you know…be vocal and whatnot.”

Thranduil put his plate into the dishwasher and made a face at Hal. “I don’t like always pushing him on you. That’s not fair, for you or him.”

“Oh, pish posh! I’m offering, and Legs loves spending time with Uncle Hal! He always says so. We have fun together, so I really don’t mind. Consider it a birthday present for Bard.”

“Really? You don’t mind?” Thranduil hesitated, unsure if he wanted to send Legolas to Hal’s again, for the second Friday in a row.

“Of course I don’t mind, silly! I need to get some baking done anyway, and I know how much the leaf likes to be my sous chef. And we have presents to wrap, too. So yes, I will watch him. We can have another sleepover. It’ll be fun for him.”

“Thanks, Hal. What would I do without you?”

“God, I ask myself that very same question every day!” Hal teased, finishing off his tea. “Just make sure you take advantage of your time alone with that hunky mechanic!”

“Yes, yes,” Thranduil shook his head before collecting the empty mugs for the dishwasher.

“Don’t let the lingerie go to waste, okay? Maybe get Bard to take some fancy black and white pictures for the photo album!”

“He would never do that,” Thranduil quickly shut down the idea, but the seed had been planted. Bard was a photographer, or had been… Thranduil wondered if he would be open to such a request. Would Bard be comfortable taking risky, scandalous photos? Maybe he would just rather stick to landscapes and scenic images…

“I bet he would!” Hal said, interrupting Thranduil’s thoughts. “And you are experienced in the modeling department. It’s worth a shot. Maybe it would be a nice birthday gift, to let him indulge in his passion for a night. And I don’t mean his passion for you.”

“I know what you mean, Hal. And I think that’s actually a very thoughtful idea. He said he used to be into photography but hasn’t done it in a long time. It would be nice to encourage him to get back into something he enjoys so much. But how on earth would I propose such a scandalous idea? And would he even want to photograph me? Maybe he’d be weird about it.”

“Would you even be comfortable with it? That’s the question. I mean, you two just did get over something serious that had to do with him and a camera…”

“That’s different, Hal. You know me, I’m very comfortable posing. I did it in front of hundreds of art students in college. It’s not really an issue for me.”

“Just make sure Bard knows that. He might think it’s too much for you, or too soon.”

“That’s true. I’ll try to find some way to bring it up. I could always ask him to bring his camera and let it happen spontaneously. Or I could ask him if he’d like me model for him as a way to help him get back into his photography…” Thranduil pondered, voicing his ideas aloud, as if hearing them outside of his head would help bring clarity.

“Ooooh, ask him what his favourite subject to photograph is, and then offer him something even better,” Hal suggested, his face beaming with a huge grin.

“We’ll see…”

“There’s nothing wrong with a good tasteful nude, just don’t get pornographic.”

Thranduil made a face of pure disgust and shook his head. “God, no. Never.”

“Save that for later,” Hal snickered.

“He doesn’t even have to take pictures of me; just anything, whatever the muse desires.”

“I think you are his muse.”

“Oh, stop,” Thranduil swatted a hand in Hal’s direction. But the idea made his stomach swarm with butterflies.

After that, their conversation changed to talk of inconsequential things and by one o’clock Hal told Thranduil that he better head home to finish up some of his work. Even on his day off, Hal still seemed to bury himself in work. A part of Thranduil wished he could be more like that. In time, he told himself, he’d immerse himself in his art once he wasn’t so preoccupied with other things.

Once Hal was gone, Thranduil took his mall purchases up to his bedroom. He paced around the house, trying desperately to find the courage to call the investigator. It wasn’t something he could continue to put off so after about fifteen minutes of an internal pep-talk, Thranduil got out his mobile and dialed the number the investigator had given him.

It was a very uncomfortable, awkward conversation, and it made Thranduil cringe more than once. But after he hung up, he felt much better, lighter. He was worried about how long the meeting would take, not wanting to schedule it for tomorrow in case it put him into a bad mood before Bard came over that night. But Dylan Fundin had told him that their meeting would only last about an hour to an hour and a half at most. He was asked if he would consent to being interviewed on camera, which he reluctantly agreed to. But the worst part of it all was that Thranduil was going to have to watch some very awful videos of himself and Galion in order to identify who was who. He didn’t understand why he had to do this, but he couldn’t really object. If it had to be done, then so be it. He wanted this entire situation to be over with, so the sooner he got it done, the better. But to watch himself being violated in such a horrific way was not going to be easy, and he feared it may trigger him, causing his emotions to run rampant and send him into a self-destructive thought pattern. At least he wouldn’t have to watch the videos in their entirety. He only had to watch long enough to say, yes, that was him and that was Galion.  There were two videos from the security cameras and the one video filmed by Bard. He was most nervous to see what Bard had filmed. He hoped it wouldn’t fuck with his head too much. He’d even thought about cancelling the date with Bard on Friday night as he was so worried viewing this footage would send him into a downward spiral of negativity and self-doubt. But, he’d see how the meeting went before making any rash decisions. He wanted to do something for Bard’s birthday; he didn’t want to let outside forces sway what he truly wanted. So, tomorrow he would meet with Dylan Fundin for the first of many times. The appointment was scheduled for nine a.m., so he would still have time to take Legolas to school in the morning, and be done in time to run some errands and pick his son up when school let out at noon.

As he sat at home alone, he tried not to think too much about the meeting tomorrow. It would be hard, but the hardest part would come later - when he’d have to come up with his testimony. He’d have to recall every little detail of what Galion had done to him, not only on the one day, but on previous occasions as well. Thranduil sighed deeply, a twinge of nausea settling into his stomach.

To distract himself from his inner qualms, Thranduil went down into his studio to paint. He worked on his commission until his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Bard.

[From: Bard] 1:56pm – hope you’re having a good day my sweet peach <3

Thranduil couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on his face. His sweet peach? He’d never heard that one before, but he thought it was quite adorable.

[To: Bard] 1:57pm – I’m a peach?

[From: Bard] 1:57pm – yup. Your ass looks like a ripe luscious peach.

[To: Bard] 1:58pm – you’ve never seen my ass, not yet at least ;)

[From: Bard] 1:58pm – I can tell a juicy peach when I see one, even through the pants :P

[To: Bard] 1:58pm – wait until you see it without the pants

[From: Bard] 1:59pm – I might drool

[To: Bard] 1:59pm – lol i’m not sure my ass is drool-worthy

[From: Bard] 2:00pm – it certainly is. thats a fact

[To: Bard] 2:00pm – I’m blushing now

[From: Bard] 2:01pm – good, you’re gorgeous when you blush. shit gotta get back to work now, beautiful. Can’t wait to see you on Friday!

[To: Bard] 2:01pm – I can’t wait either. Can you come for dinner, too?

[From: Bard] 2:02pm – I think so. We’ll talk tonight and figure it out, ok?

[To: Bard] 2:02pm – k sounds good. Talk to you tonight then <3 :)

[From: Bard] 2:03pm – yup. Have fun painting and being beautiful

[To: Bard] 2:03pm – have fun working and being extremely sexy ;) ttyl

[From: Bard] 2:03pm – ttyl <3

Thranduil grinned and continued to paint. He found himself getting easily distracted, so he washed his brushes and went upstairs. He decided to call the real estate agent to see if he could make an appointment to see the house.

He was pleased to find out that they would be able to do a viewing on Monday. Thranduil had expressed his interest in purchasing the house so if he liked it as much in person then he wouldn’t hold back on making an offer. He wanted to move as soon as possible.

***

“Da is home!” Bain yelled out before Bard had even gotten in the house.

Tilda ran in before him, quickly shedding herself of her winter clothes and boots.

“Da!” Bain continued to yell. “You’re gonna be in such shit, Sig! Da is here.” He shouted up the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Bard asked as he took off his jacket and hung it on the hook behind the door. He bent over to unlace his work boots and Bain quickly appeared at his side.

“Da, I’m hungry,” Tilda called from the kitchen.

“Da, you gotta see this! Sigrid did something! Come see!” Bain yelled in his ear.

“Hold on, hold on. Let me get my boots off first.”

“Da!!!” Tilda shouted.

“Yes, Tilda, one minute!”

Bard barely had a chance to get a few feet from the door before Bain grabbed at his arm and pulled him towards the stairs. “Sigrid, I’m bringing Da upstairs, you better hide!”

“What did Sigrid do? What happened?” Bard was confused; Sigrid never did anything that he would consider bad behavior; she had always been very mature for her age – never one to act out and do rebellious things. What could she possibly have done to get Bain so worked up?

Bain pulled Bard along up the stairs as Tilda continued to complain about how hungry she was in the kitchen.

“Wait ‘til you see this, Da. Sigrid’s gonna be in soooo much trouble.”

“Shut up, Bain!” Sigrid yelled from what sounded like the bathroom.

“Hey now, it can’t be that bad. No need to be rude to each other.”

They got to the top of the stairs and Bain finally let go of Bard’s arm. He pointed to the closed bathroom door where Sigrid was. “Open up, Sig!” Bain pounded at the bathroom door three times before Sigrid cracked the door open enough to stick her nose out.

She had a towel wrapped around her head and wore a sheepish look on her face.

“What’s going on, Sig?” Bard asked in askance. “C’mon, you can tell me.”

“It’s nothing, Da. You’re gonna be mad.”

“How do you know? Maybe I won’t be mad at all.”

“She dyed her hair!” Bain blurt out, voice cracking.

“Shhhh!”

“What? You dyed your hair?”

“And not a normal colour either! She dyed it blue, Da! Blue!!!” Bain yelled.

“Bain! Stop shouting.” Bard scolded, and then turned to Sigrid, motioning for her to open the door wider. She was wearing her pajama pants and a tank top and her shoulders were visibly stained a dark blue colour. “Sig… let me see. Take the towel off your head.”

“It’s still wet…”

“I don’t care if it’s wet or dry, let me see it.”

“Ugh! Fine.” Sigrid groaned, pulling the towel off, revealing her newly dyed dark blue hair.

Bard bit the inside of his cheek. It didn’t appear as if she dyed all of it, just a few sections. He’d never expected Sigrid to want to dye her hair funky colours, but in all honesty, it didn’t look bad. He didn’t say anything for a long few moments; he just stared and thought about what Madison would do in this situation. She would likely yell and punish Sigrid for doing something ‘bad’. But really, Bard didn’t see what his daughter did as something worth punishing her for. She was only expressing herself and her individuality. Bard had never seen eye to eye with Madison on these kinds of things. She’d been so uptight, while Bard had always been more laid back; but since all rules were always made by her, the children had no idea what Bard’s reaction would be. It made sense that Bain expected Bard to react poorly.

“It looks good, Sig. Whatever makes you happy.” Bard commented plainly.

“What?” Bain and Sigrid asked, both in shock.

“I said, it looks good.”

“Really?” Sigrid said, a smile twisting at her lips. “You actually like it? You’re not mad?”

“There’s nothing for me to be mad about, Sig.”

“What?! I thought you would be pissed. Ma would’ve killed Sigrid for dying her hair.” Bain said, a frown on his face.

“Well I’m not her, am I? And I like it. It looks cool.”

“Thanks, Da!” Sigrid exclaimed, stepping out of the bathroom and throwing her arms around Bard.

“Oh my god, Sig!” Tilda squealed from behind Bard. “Your hair! It looks so cool! Can I dye mine, too, Da? I want mine to be pink! Please, please?!”

Bard grinned, letting go of Sigrid. “Maybe in a few years, you’re still a little too young…”

“Fine,” Tilda harrumphed. “What about the stuff that washes out? Maybe red and green for Christmas!”

Bard thought about it for a few seconds. There wasn’t any harm in letting Tilda put colour in her hair, as long as it would wash out. Bard figured she just wanted to be like her big sister. “I think we could do that.”

“Really?” Tilda’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, we’ll have to look on the weekend to see what we can find, okay?”

Tilda pumped her fists in the air triumphantly. “You’re the best! Oh, thank you, Da!”

“You’re welcome, honeyb—”

“When are we eating?” Bain interrupted, sighing loudly.

“Let me go change and then I’ll start dinner.”

“Can we have burgers?” Bain asked with a pleading smile on his face.

“Do we still have ground beef?”

“Yeah! But we’ll need more after this though.”

“I’ll put it on the list.” Bard said. The list had begun to grow quite long, so he would have to go do the groceries on the weekend. Saturday would be the best day to go since the children wanted to make him dinner that night and he knew by then they’d be out of most of the essentials. He’d stock up and pick up anything they would need for their adventure in the kitchen.

After he’d changed out of his work clothes and showered, Bard threw on a t-shirt and jeans and headed downstairs to start supper. Much to his delight, the table was already set and Sigrid was washing up dirty dishes left over from the morning. She flashed her father a bright grin, probably still worried that she would eventually get in trouble for dying her hair. But it didn’t bother Bard. He’d never been one to judge people based on their appearance, or the clothes or accessories they fashioned themselves in. It was just a form of self expression, after all. And in fact, Bard admired people who were brave enough to use their appearance to express their creativity. He’d always been a fan of body art – piercings and tattoos. He imagined if he had a lot of money he’d probably be covered in tattoos.

“You sure you’re not mad at me, Da?” Sigrid asked as Bard took the ground beef out of the refrigerator.

“I’m sure,” Bard assured her with a firm nod. “There’s nothing to be mad about.”

“Thank god.”

“Next time, I’d appreciate a little heads up. Let me know what you’re doing before you do it, okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, Da. I just figured you’d say no like mom did when I asked her a few months ago. Parents aren’t usually cool when it comes to odd hair colours. Mom didn’t approve, at least.”

“Well I respect that you want to change up your look for whatever reason, but just don’t think that this means you can go and do whatever you want. No tongue piercings or tattoos.” Bard said, sincerely hoping Sigrid wasn’t acting out because Madison had left.

“Yes, Da. I would like to get my nose pierced though.” Sigrid wiggled her eyebrows at Bard.

“This is a discussion for another day.” Bard sighed as he added a few spices to the ground beef. He washed his hands and started forming burger patties, which he sat on a large plate.

“Make mine really big!” Bain hollered, running into the kitchen at full speed and sliding on his socked feet towards the refrigerator.

“There won’t be enough meat for that.”

“Well Tilda only needs a tiny one.”

“No! Bain! I’m so hungry. I can eat a full one!” Tilda shouted, coming in the kitchen after her brother.

“Lies! You always waste. You never eat all your food!”

“Guys,” Bard interjected, “Have you finished, or even started your homework yet?”

“Ha! I’m done my painting!” Bain said, as he rummaged through the fridge for condiments.

“Good, is that all you had to do?” Bard inquired.

“Yup. Everything else is done.”

“I have to finish a writing assignment,” Sigrid added. “I have to write an article. It won’t take long since it only has to be a thousand words.”

“Okay, get started after supper then. What about you, honeybee?”

“Nothing for me because tomorrow is the last day of school before the holidays!”

“Tilda never has real homework,” Bain commented, sniffing a jar of salsa he’d found at the back of the fridge.

“Hey!” Tilda griped.

“Do you think this smells old?” Bain shoved the jar under Bard’s nose.

Bard sniffed it and shrugged. “Smells fine to me. What’s the expiry date?”

Bain frowned as he searched the jar for the expiry. “Oh, it’s good for another two months. Sweet! I’m gonna put it on my burger, along with this cheese.”

“That’s my cheese!” Tilda shouted, grabbing the cheddar slices from Bain’s hand.

“They’re for everyone, Til.” Bard said.

“As long as he doesn’t use like three slices for one burger!”

“I won’t!”

“Tilda, Bain, enough,” Bard warned. “You sound like a bunch of hens. No more bickering. Da is tired tonight.”

Thankfully Bain and Tilda stopped their bickering and helped take out the items they needed from the fridge. Tilda set a store-made salad and dressing on the table and Bain put out the condiments, lettuce, tomato slices and Tilda’s cheese on the table while Bard began to cook the burgers in the frying pan.

Just as the cooked patties were ready to be removed from the stove top, Bard put the buns into the oven to get a little colour, and then called the children back to the table.

They all scarfed down their food like a pack of ravenous wolves, no one leaving anything uneaten, not even little Tilda – much to Bain’s astonishment.

Afterwards, as they cleaned up and cleared off the table, the children spoke animatedly about their plans for Bard’s birthday on Saturday. Tilda was looking forward to cake just as much as Bain, and Sigrid was excited to try a new pasta recipe that she’d found online. Bard told them to make a list of all the ingredients they would need so he could pick it all up when he did food shopping on Saturday morning.

So, the children all piled around the table and worked together to come up with a list. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too expensive. Bard had been saving up for Christmas presents since the beginning of the year. It was something he did each year; he put a few dollars every day into a piggybank. He preferred saving money in a piggybank as opposed to in his savings account where he could access the money if he needed it. At least in the piggybank, the money would stay untouched. He had no idea how much was in there, so tomorrow he would have to check; he was really behind on Christmas shopping. He was so used to Madison orchestrating everything and going to the mall to shop for gifts by herself. Bard was extremely inexperienced, but he would learn. He decided he’d go to the mall on Saturday after he’d finished the groceries.

Bard reclined on the sofa for a while, flicking aimlessly through the channels on TV. He knew he needed to tell the children his plans for Friday night, and he only hoped none of them would have an issue with him going over to Thranduil’s after he got home from work. He didn’t even know how long he’d spend with Thranduil; he didn’t want to rush through their night together. But he figured the kids would stay up later on Friday night in celebration of the last day of school before winter vacation.

Later on that evening, Bard found himself in the basement, digging through old storage bins. He had been feeling inspired lately and hoped to find his digital camera – the Nikon that his parents had given him a few Christmas’s ago. He regretted that he never got to use it more than a mere handful of times. He’d never seemed to find the time for his own hobbies and Madison had just criticized his photos anyway, said he spent too much time taking pictures and not enough time being a husband and a father. So he’d given it up, and his camera ended up packed up in one of the boxes in the basement, unthought-of for over two years. His two analog cameras, the 35 mm and the 120 film, had been untouched for even longer – over six years. It was impractical to take pictures to get developed, and even more impractical to develop them himself. He’d taken a night course before Tilda was born, so he knew how to develop the photographs himself, but the equipment was expensive and they didn’t have enough space in the house for him to set up a darkroom. It had always been one of his dreams, though, to be a professional photographer who had the wherewithal to work from home. The opportunity to travel for work interested him as well, but being a father of three, he knew that would likely never happen. The only other place in the world he’d been to was Wales when he’d lived there. That was almost half his life ago. But fortunately Bard was content spending his days with the children. So if he ever could make a living working as a photographer from home, he would jump at the opportunity. But how did one become a photographer? How could photographs earn him enough income to survive? It was impossible. And that’s why it was only a dream.

He managed to find his Nikon in a box of old electronics. He pulled the camera out of the web of cords it was tangled in and smiled when he held it in his hands again after so long. The battery was dead, so he found the charger, put the storage boxes back in place and headed upstairs. He went to his room to plug the battery in to charge. He felt a pang of excitement when he thought about getting back into his favourite hobby. Maybe he could take the camera with him when he went to the tree farm with Thranduil on Sunday.

After putting Tilda to bed, Bard went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of sleepy-time tea. Bain played video games in the living room and Sigrid was up in her room listening to music. Bard joined Bain on the couch and watched a few rounds of Burnout Paradise, where Bain’s car had been evading the cops for over half an hour. Just as Bain’s car was speeding off an overpass, Bard’s mobile rang. He set his tea down and hurried up the stairs so he could answer his phone in private. It was Thranduil. Probably calling about their plans for tomorrow evening.

“Hey, Thran,” Bard answered, out of breath from darting up the stairs so quickly.

“Hey, hey,” Thranduil greeted, sounding more chipper than usual. “How’s it going?”

“Ah, pretty good. How about you?”

“I’m doing well, thanks. I’m just calling about tomorrow…”

“I gathered,” Bard chuckled, “what did you have planned?”

“Dinner? And whatever you want to do – it’s your birthday, so you can decide.”

“Dinner is nice. And I’d enjoy any time spent with you, doesn’t matter what we do.”

“We can just hang out at the house.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Maybe you could, uh, bring your camera along.”

Bard grinned. “That’s funny that you’d mention my camera. I actually just got it out earlier. It’s charging now.”

“Oh, really? That’s great. I’d like to see your photographs, if you don’t mind showing me. Maybe you could even take some tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, sure. I was just thinking about how much I miss taking pictures. It would be nice to get back into it.”

“Yeah, you should. It would be nice for you to do something you enjoy so much.”

“What do you want me to take pictures of?”

“Well, what’s your favourite thing to photograph?”

“Hmm,” Bard hummed. He didn’t really have a favourite thing to photograph; he enjoyed taking pictures of whatever inspired him. “All sorts of things. Can’t say I really have a favourite. I like shots of distressed things, decaying and ugly; things that I can somehow make beautiful. And I like capturing people in their natural habitat, so they are unsuspecting. Those always turn out the best.”

“I can be unsuspecting…”

“I bet you’re very photogenic. Would you let me photograph you?” Bard asked, hoping against hope that Thranduil wouldn’t be put off by his request.

“Of course. Any way to help you get back into your art.”

“Yeah? You’d be cool with that? I think you’d make a beautiful model.”

Thranduil made an appreciative noise. Bard could almost hear his smile. “You’re just stroking my ego now, aren’t you?”

“I might be stroking, but it is the truth. I mean, you were a model in those life drawing classes…”

A soft chuckle. “Yeah, I have experience. Modeling like that really took away any sense of shame I had. Now I’m the least modest person in the world, probably. We’ve all got the same anatomy, so it’s not a big deal to be naked. Not that I’m suggesting I’ll be naked when you photograph me...”

Bard snorted out a laugh. “We might all have the same anatomy, but yours is far superior to the rest of the world. And no, you don’t have to be naked. I’ve never photographed anyone in the nude before.”

“Ah, a learning curve.” Thranduil laughed, drawing another chuckle from Bard. “No, I’m just kidding. Let’s start with a PG rating and we can see where it goes from there. So… what time can you come over tomorrow?”

“I’ll have to get supper ready for the kids, and then I can be over around six-thirty, give or take. Is that cool with you?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect. I should probably go to bed early tonight – I have to go to the police station tomorrow.” Thranduil groaned, definitely displeased by this.

“You’re meeting the Investigator?” Bard winced. He knew that wasn’t going to be an easy thing for Thranduil to do.

“Yeah. Fuck, I really don’t want to, but I can’t put it off any longer.”

“It’ll be okay, Thran. You’ll get through it and feel much better once it’s over with.”

“That’s true. It’s just the anticipation that’s killing me.”

“Well, after tomorrow the anticipation will be gone. What time is the meeting?”

“It’s at nine a.m. It shouldn’t take longer than an hour or two, but I think I’ll have to watch videos of evidence. Yours, the other two from the security cameras. It’s going to be hell.”

“Oh, Thran,” Bard said, his tone growing more sympathetic. “Yeah, that’s gonna suck… I still feel so b –”

“It is what it is. Don’t say you feel bad about that video, okay? I’ll just have to deal with whatever happens tomorrow. There’s no way around it; I have to do it.”

“You know you can text or call me after or before, or whenever, right?”

“Thanks, Bard. I might have to take you up on that.”

“Anytime, Thran. I mean it. I’m always here for you.”

“Thank you. You know you’re the best, right?”

“I try.”

“And you succeed.”

Bard smiled. “So if you need to rant about anything, just text me. I might not answer right away but sometimes it helps to just get it off your chest. You don’t have to hold anything back with me.”

“Aw, that’s really nice of you, Bard. I think it also helps to know that there is someone to talk or rant to if I need it, so thanks for offering to be my sounding board. I’ll try to dial back on the curse words.” Thranduil allowed a soft chuckle.  

“Curse as much as you need; doesn’t bother me. So, I’ll let you get some sleep then.”

“Okay. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you, too. I’ll be thinking about you, and don’t forget how much you mean to me.”

“Bard,” Thranduil groaned playfully.

“What?”

“You’re just a big lump of sugar, you know that?”

“Am I?”

“Yes, so sweet. And you mean a lot to me, too. I’ll be thinking about you as well. It’ll help me get through tomorrow.”

“Good. You can do this, Thran. Have a good sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, see you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, doll. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

***

Thranduil woke up early Friday morning. His sleep had been restless and he couldn’t stay in bed any longer. The clock read five fifty-two a.m. He got up, made the bed hastily – clear evidence of the anxiety that coiled itself inside his stomach. He took a shower and got dressed. He wore all black, as if attending a funeral. His own funeral.

Fuck.

He was not looking forward to the visit with the investigator.

Before heading downstairs, he peered into his son’s room. Legolas was still sound asleep, wrapped up snugly in a heap of blankets, his blonde hair like a halo around his head. Thranduil crept into his room and pressed a light kiss on his head, brushing stray hairs from his sleeping face. Seeing how peaceful Legolas looked helped calm Thranduil’s heart, if only for the time being. His son slept soundly, after so many months of worry, and Thranduil was more than grateful for it. He would feel even more at ease once they were in their new house. He could see it now – little Legolas playing in his forest themed bedroom, pretending to be Robin Hood. The thought made Thranduil smile. He glanced once more at Legolas before he headed down the stairs.

He made himself a cup of tea and watched a bit of TV and once the clock read seven-thirty, he went back upstairs to wake up Legolas and get him ready for school. Since today was Legolas’ last day of school before the winter break, Thranduil decided to make his son’s favourite chocolate chip pancakes.

While Legolas was in his room getting dressed, Thranduil prepared the pancakes in the kitchen. He mixed the batter, added the milk chocolate chips and poured small circles into the pan. Legolas always liked when the pancakes were small, so Thranduil made half a dozen little ones and three regular sized ones for himself. On any other day he could probably eat at least six large ones without flinching, but today he didn’t want to stuff himself in case he got nauseous. He barely had an appetite anyway.

He and Legolas ate in a blur, and before he knew it, it was time to take Legolas to school. Legolas brushed his teeth while Thranduil packed Galion’s box of tricks into the trunk. It made him sick to touch such filth, but he quickly forgot about it when Legolas appeared in the garage and got into the backseat. Then, they headed to the school. They arrived at eight-thirty, and Thranduil told his son he would be there at noon to pick him up before planting a big embarrassing kiss on Legolas’s head.

Now, off to the police station.

Thranduil groaned internally on the drive there.

“If we just crashed the car then we wouldn’t have to do this. You know, that’s not a bad idea. Ugh. Such bullshit. You know you’ll have to watch those videos. Just don’t cry. Don’t make yourself look like a little bitch. It will be fine. No tears. Just put up the wall, don’t think about it. It isn’t you. It’s someone else. Disconnect.” Thranduil had begun talking to himself as soon as the police station was in sight. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned a ghostly shade of white. He bet his face had turned the same colour.

It felt like he’d swallowed a brick. A really big, really jagged brick.

He was early. The clock read eight forty-seven a.m.

Thranduil parked, sat in the car and waited. He felt like he might throw up; the anxiety gnawed at him from the inside, trying to escape.

Eight forty-eight a.m.

He tried to breathe but that only made him feel worse, like he was choking, making him all the more aware of how fucking dry his mouth had become.

Water. He needed water.

He rummaged around the car, flipping himself angrily around in his seat to see if there were any abandoned water bottles in the back seat. Maybe on the floor? No. Shit out of luck. He turned back around with a grunt. Why hadn’t he better prepared himself?

He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, grappling to hold on to a nonexistent sense of calm. Well, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. It was impossible to be zen. His fingers dug into his knees. His knees bounced uncontrollably along to the beat of some atrocious pop song on the radio, or the erratic beat of his heart – which one he wasn’t sure.

Fuck. Eight fifty a.m.

He turned off the car and stared blankly ahead at the entrance door to the police station. Would he have to tell the receptionist why he was there? No, all he would have to say was that he was there to see Investigator Dylan Fundin for nine a.m. Oh, and his name, of course.

He absently wondered what the investigator would look like. Would his face match the gruff sound of his voice? Would he look like the ‘real man’ Thranduil pictured in his head? Or would he be rake-thin and more effeminate than Hal?

Eight fifty-three a.m.

No point waiting any longer. Thranduil slid out of the driver’s seat, went into the trunk and grabbed the box of Galion’s drug paraphernalia. He grasped it tightly to his chest, wondering what good it was going to do him. The cold air stung his face and left his fingers feeling numb, but he trudged on and made small, unsteady steps towards the entrance. The snow and gravel crunched beneath his boots, the sound ringing loud in his ears.

He paused in front of the large double doors to take a breath. He braced himself as he crossed the threshold, heart pounding frantically, dizziness overcoming his senses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone want to see pictures of the house Thran wants to buy? I can add a link here later :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting with the investigator and a birthday date, featuring photographer Bard!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the journey past 200k. I never thought this would get so long, but you know me, I like details. 
> 
> So, here is another long-ass chapter, at a little over 17k. :)

The police station smelled of stagnant air, thick with must and bacteria. It smelled like too many people had been crowded into a small space for too long. It stung Thranduil’s nose and made his stomach coil into a tight ball. He swallowed down the liquid building in his mouth, nearly gagging on his own saliva in the process. God, let this be over soon.

He went up to the receptionist’s desk, barely able to register what he said. What the hell did he say? Whatever it was, it was enough for him to be led, by two uniform officers, down a corridor and towards what he guessed was Dylan Fundin’s office. Thranduil felt like a zombie, just going through the motions. His brain was in survival mode, protecting him from anything around him that might cause physical or mental damage. The room he was taken into was even mustier smelling than the rest of the building. The light was fluorescent, unnatural, making his skin look a strange, sickly colour.

Did he look as disgusting as he felt? Probably.

In the face of such discomfort it proved difficult to school his expression into anything less than disgust. Thranduil was usually so good at hiding his emotions behind a cool disconnect; a perfectly placed mask. But not today. Not now.

He sat alone in the room on a worn leather armchair in front of a dark mahogany desk, informed that Dylan Fundin would be with him shortly. The office was small, but cozier than Thranduil had imagined it to be. A corkboard hung on one wall, a whiteboard on the other. Something was written in the corner of the whiteboard in small chicken scratch, it said, _‘don’t let a bad day make you feel like you have a bad life.’_

Thranduil involuntarily rolled his eyes, though the message spoke to him nevertheless. Just because he was going through this shit, didn’t mean his life as a whole was shit. Even though it certainly felt that way now. There were things to look forward to; things to be positive about. Not everything was bad. He ended up smiling at the quote, and hoped to remember its message once he was in the middle of watching video evidence. That’s when he’d really need the optimism.

As he sat in the chair, he fidgeted; playing with the strands of hair that hung over his shoulders, cracking his fingers, picking at the corner of the cardboard box, brushing non-existent lint off the arms of his coat. He couldn’t stop his body – or his brain – from moving. He worried about court, about a testimony, about what he would have to say today in the interview. There was no end to the restlessness he felt. Thranduil didn’t even have a lawyer, but at least he knew how these things worked. The crown attorney would be his lawyer, the one who would oversee his case; collecting and compiling evidence that would be presented in court. That was the benefit of having a defense attorney for a father, Thranduil knew, or had a good idea of how all this would play out. He only hoped it wouldn’t be too traumatizing. Going to court, standing trial, telling his story to a bunch of strangers with their judging eyes…it was liable to break him.

He struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. It felt as thick as honey, and he feared he’d lose his voice before the Investigator even showed up. He cleared his throat a few times, the sound so loud, almost alien, in such a cramped and stuffy room. In one corner there was a small, maybe thirty-inch, TV on a stand, complete with a DVD player and a surplus of cords below it. It reminded Thranduil of the television sets they had in schools. Was this what he was going to watch the video evidence on? He would rather see it on the screen of a computer, something less intimidating. Although the television wasn’t big, it was still big enough to show details he would rather not see.

The sound of the doorknob startled Thranduil and he clenched his fist tightly around the corners of the box he was still clutching.

“Aye, yes, yes,” a gruff voice – the investigator, probably – said to someone behind him, before fully entering the room. Thranduil could not see him yet, as he was facing the opposite direction of the door, and didn’t dare turn to look. “Now don’t any of ye bother me, I’ll be busy for the next hour, yeah?”

Thranduil swallowed when he felt the heavy footsteps on the floor.

“Aye, Mr. Greenleaf, Investigator Dylan Fundin, pleasure to meet ye,” the investigator held out his hand to Thranduil, who promptly shook it and offered a nod.

“Thranduil, pleasure to meet you as well,” he offered, shaking Dylan’s hand for what felt like a few seconds too long.

Dylan Fundin’s physical appearance really did match his voice. He was tall, maybe not as tall as Thranduil, but definitely over six feet, he was bald – shiny bald, and had a very muscular build. He did not wear a uniform, but his clothes still remained professional. On his feet were heavy work boots, echoing loudly with every step he took. Thranduil noticed the tattoo of an anvil on his left hand and wondered if he had any more hidden beneath his sleeves. In any other setting, in different clothing, the investigator could’ve had Thranduil convinced he was in a biker gang. He even wore large gauged hoop earrings in both ears. Definitely not what Thranduil had expected.

“So, let me just take a seat here, and get this ol’ laptop up and runnin’ before we begin,” Dylan said, taking a seat behind his desk. Thranduil didn’t know if he should say anything, so he kept quiet. “I’ve got the police report here,” Dylan continued, holding up manila folder for Thranduil to see. “And I’ve read over yer case multiple times, so if you agree to it, we would like to interview you, like we talked about on the phone.” Dylan looked up at Thranduil for a response.

Thranduil bit his tongue. “Yes, that’s fine.”

“What’s the box?” Dylan asked. Oh, right, the box. Thranduil should’ve mentioned it.

“Oh, this is his – Galion’s – drug stuff. I didn’t exactly look through it, but my friend told me that maybe it would be important to show you.”

“Ah, ye, he’s being charged with possession, trafficking, distribution, the like. Was into some heavy shit, that one.” Dylan shook his head, and motioned with a hand for Thranduil to pass him the box. “I’ll get someone to look this over, get prints, find out if it would be useful to the case in any way.”

Thranduil gave the box to Dylan, who set it aside on his desk. “I never even knew he was into that. I mean, I had a growing suspicion, but I was never sure.”

“Sick and deranged,” Dylan sighed.

“What is this interview about?” Thranduil asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. He really didn’t want to rehash the whole story; and how uncomfortable it would be to have to tell it on camera!

“Don’t worry, laddie, you don’t have to tell us what happened. That’s all here in the police report. That’s something you’ll have to go over with the attorney when ye come up with yer testimony. For now, we’re just going to ask ye background questions, simple things really.”

“Okay, do we do it here?”

“Nay, we have a room. It’s a comfortable room, like a living room. Got a nice sofa and everything. So, if ye wouldn’t mind, just follow me.” Dylan stood up, drawing Thranduil to his feet. They left Dylan’s office and walked a few feet down the corridor, around a corner and then into the interview room. Dylan was right; it did look like a living room. From the 90’s. There was already a camera set up facing the sofa. Another officer came into the room and spoke briefly to Dylan, handing him some papers and a cup of coffee.

“Want anything to drink?” Dylan asked Thranduil.

“Water, please.” Thranduil said, so grateful that he’d finally be able to quench his thirst. The inside of his mouth felt like the Sahara.

Dylan turned back to the other officer, a very pale bald man with a permanent scowl. “Fetch a bottle of water, will ya? And the Commissioner of Oath. C’mon now, quick march!”

“Should I sit on the sofa?” Thranduil asked, feeling odd just standing there.

“Yes, yes, laddie, take a seat, get comfortable. And don’t mind Officer Azog, he’s just a wee bit grumpy at this hour. This’ll all be over with soon.”

“I hope so.” Thranduil sighed.

“I know it’ll be hard for ye, so if you need to stop at any time, just say so.”

“Okay, thank you.”

The door opened and a dark skinned man wearing clothing of various shades of beige, or shades of blah as Thranduil referred to it, walked into the room. Thranduil assumed this was the Commissioner of Oath. The bald officer entered the room behind the man with the blah clothes and handed Thranduil a bottle of water. Thranduil nodded his thanks, mouth still too dry to form words, and uncapped and gulped down half the bottle in one swig. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them everything around him was buzzing, spinning, making him dizzy. He could barely feel his own head attached to his body. He felt like he was floating. Was this what it felt like to have an out of body experience? He looked around as Investigator Fundin and the bald officer – Officer Azog, he reminded himself – began setting up the video camera and the man in blah flipped through a hand book of some sort. Thranduil fell into a trance, staring straight ahead at nothing, eyes unfocused and unblinking. The light made his stomach queasy and his chest tight.

Investigator Fundin’s voice drew him back to reality.

“Okay, laddie, when you’re ready we can begin.”

The Commissioner of Oath read out a speech about being truthful; it was a crime to lie to police. Thranduil nodded and swore to tell the truth.  The red light on the video camera was on, so Thranduil straightened in his seat. He faked a graceful, calm demeanor, hoping that if he looked relaxed then maybe he could trick his brain into believing it.

_Just don’t look into the camera. Steady breath, in and out, in and out, in and…out._

The questions came within seconds. Thranduil wasn’t prepared to answer. He wasn’t sure any amount of preparation would help, anyway.

Certain questions were easy to answer.

_“How do you know the defendant?”_

_“What is your relationship to him?”_

_“How long have you known him?”_

_“When did he start to become violent?”_

Thranduil answered each question with little more than a few words. He detached, pretended he was someone else, someone strong. Maybe he should’ve opened up and said more than he did, but he was shitting bricks, so afraid he’d say the wrong thing and end up making himself look like the one at fault.

The questions began getting uncomfortable when Officer Azog cut in.

It all started with a an inquiry about his previous relationships –Thranduil had told them about his marriage with Emilia, and a few other insignificant relationships afterwards – then switched back to talk of Galion. It progressed so quickly Thranduil wasn’t sure he was hearing the questions correctly.

_“So, it was a sexual relationship?”_

_“You like anal sex?”_

_“How often did you and the defendant have sex?”_

_“Have you ever engaged in rough sex before?”_

_“Do you like it rough?”_

_“Have you ever engaged in rape play before?”_

At that point, Thranduil felt like he was about to vomit all over the carpet, but he managed to hold himself together, answering all the questions. Could they hear how his voice faltered when they said the word _rape_? Did they know how uncomfortable this made him, how triggering it was? It was as if he could feel Galion’s hands all over him, choking him until he couldn’t breathe. In a monotone voice, Thranduil told them that yes, he had been in a sexual relationship with Galion, and yes he liked anal sex. He and Galion had sex a few times a week but Thranduil was never enthusiastic about it, it wasn’t something he looked forward to. He admitted that he enjoyed rough sex, but nothing threatening or intimidating. He had engaged in rough sex before, but never rape play; that did not turn him on.

His hands were shaking violently after he answered, but they continued asking questions that were equally uncomfortable to respond to.

_“Why did you stay with him?”_

_“Why didn’t you just leave him?”_

_“What kinds of threats did he make?”_

Easy to answer, but probably hard for others to understand. People who have never been in abusive relationships never understood why one would stay instead of running for the fucking hills. It wasn’t that simple, so Thranduil tried his best to explain. There was a sense of comfort, of routine. He went along with many things he didn’t like in order to keep the peace, keep Galion placated. He told them how Galion was verbally abusive in the beginning and eventually became physically abusive. He was also financially abusive. He tried to control Thranduil’s money. He took Thranduil’s money and spent it however he wanted. And if Thranduil ever attempted to confront him, he would spew threats. _I’ll kill you if you leave me. I’ll hunt you down, you filthy slut. Do you think anyone would ever love you? I’m all you’ll ever have. I’m the only one who will love you for the whore you are. You want me to hurt that little brat of yours? You want to see his face bashed in? I’ll kill him if you leave me and then it will be your fault. You’ll have killed both your wife and your child._

Thranduil’s voice grew shaky as he paraphrased Galion’s threats. He tried to remember the exact words, but the words hurt. They flooded him with a guilt he felt he could never wash away. And when he started talking about Legolas, he feared he wouldn’t be able to hold it together anymore. He fought to control his emotions, biting the inside of his mouth, digging his fingers into his knees. He didn’t want to cry on camera. Investigator Fundin must have sensed this because somewhere during the interview, the camera was turned off long enough for Thranduil to take a drink of water and compose himself.

Dylan Fundin gave him a few words of encouragement and then the interview continued. Thranduil tried to open up. He told them every bad thing he could think of. He tried not to leave any details out. It was easier when he didn’t think about the video camera, easier when he just looked down and let the words out; like a great purge.

Let it all out.

When he watched clips of the video evidence his heart stopped. It felt like a freight train plummeted into his chest and left him breathless, gasping for air. Everything inside him was screaming ‘run, get out of here’, but he soldiered on and kept a straight face. At least he didn’t have to watch all of it. But fuck, even watching a few seconds was enough for him to lock up and shut down. Who was that sad, blonde, effeminate piece of shit who couldn’t stand up for himself? That couldn’t possibly be him. Was he really that weak? Did he really let Galion have that much power over him? As much as he was disgusted with Galion, he was equally as disgusted with himself. How could he let Galion do such a thing to him?

Thankfully, time seemed to speed up and before Thranduil knew it, he was free to go. He barely recalled what had even happened during the meeting once he was back outside in the parking lot; he was riding on an adrenaline high.  All he knew was he’d have to go back to meet with Investigator Fundin and the crown attorney after the holidays. He’d have to come up with his testimony.

But he couldn’t bring himself to think of that now. All he could see was himself, from the perspective of an outsider, being attacked and raped like a pathetic victim. That’s all he was. A useless, worthless victim. _No, no, don’t think like that. But, that’s what you are. You really are useless._

How was he supposed to get behind the wheel of the car and drive now? He smoked a cigarette outside the car, savoring the cold wind whipping at his face.

_He manipulated you so easily. He barely even had to try. You just willingly let him abuse you. You let it go on for so long. Why didn’t you do anything? Why did you freeze every fucking time he put his hands on you?_

Thranduil let his thoughts take over; he was practically drowning in them. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help it. He tried to ground himself, breathe deeply and count to ten over and over, but none of it worked. He couldn’t even fight off his own thoughts, no wonder he couldn’t fight off Galion. It was a sad and chilling reality, knowing that he was powerless against himself. He couldn’t get away from himself, couldn’t run from his own thoughts. They played on repeat, a broken record cursed to go on forever, until the end of time. It was as if he was forced to watch himself being assaulted; first from his own perspective, then from Galion’s, and finally from Bard’s. God, that was a hard video to watch. At least he didn’t have to see it all. But what did it matter if he hadn’t had to watch the video in its entirety? He knew exactly what happened. He remembered Galion’s words. He remembered how it felt. It sickened him to his core. To know he would just lay there on the floor, his head pushed forcefully into the ground as Galion robbed him of his self-worth…it was too much to handle.

These kinds of thoughts weren’t helpful, and he knew it. They served no purpose; they only gave more power to Galion.

_So, stop thinking! Get in the fucking car and go home. Put on some angry music and cry. No, don’t cry. Why do you always have to cry? Why is that your natural response? Take back the power; regain control of your life. Think about something better. Think about Bard. Think about Legolas. Think about Hal in the kitchen dancing with a broom._

Thranduil slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the car. He was freezing. He blasted the heat and turned up the music.

_Shut up, Taylor Swift. Yes, I knew Galion was trouble when he walked in. Shame on me. I know! Get out of my head._

He quickly changed the station to classical. A little Mozart or Beethoven was what he needed right now.

It was almost eleven o’clock and somehow Thranduil ended up at the grocery store. He perused the aisles aimlessly until he came upon the bakery. He picked out a decadent triple layer chocolate ganache cake for Bard’s birthday, paid for it and headed home to store it in the fridge.

He still had half an hour before he had to pick up Legolas but he didn’t want to be alone at the house, so he got back in the car and went to the gas station to get a pack of cigarettes. Then he headed to Legolas’ school, parked the car and waited.

Hopefully he would be able to control the torrent of emotions rising up from within…

***

 

Bard worried about Thranduil. It was noon and Thranduil hadn’t texted him. Bard was sure he would get a text or two from Thranduil regarding the meeting with the Investigator. He knew Thranduil must be stressed about it. But no text. So Bard sent one instead.

[To: Thran] 12:08pm – hey doll. hope the meeting went okay. cant wait to see you tonight <3

He ate his lousy turkey sandwich in silence, wondering how Thranduil’s meeting had gone. He let his thoughts wander to what he would get the children for Christmas. They had already made a list, so Bard more or less knew what he was going to get for them. But he worried about money. He’d have to open that piggybank tonight. Sigrid asked for a pair of Doc Marten’s, which Bard knew were not cheap. They could cost up to two-hundred dollars. He knew Bain wanted some new video game and art supplies – more items that weren’t cheap. Tilda asked for various toys; a bracelet making kit, colouring books, some of those odd-looking anatomically incorrect dolls. Oh, and her hair chalk. She’d told him that’s what it was called. It wasn’t hair dye, it was hair chalk. He’d have to remember that. He tried to calculate how much this Christmas haul would wind up costing him; probably more than he could afford, but he had a credit card, so he tried not to worry too much. He’d figure out how to pay it off later. He could always work overtime if he had to, pick up a shift on the weekend. Bard just wanted his children to be happy on Christmas Day. They deserved it, especially after all that had happened recently. He’d do what he could to make their day as magical as possible.

Tomorrow, he would venture to the mall to make his bigger purchases. And then, he would stop off at the local thrift shop. He always liked to get a few odds and ends for the children, stocking stuffers and such. He went on the internet on his phone and looked up the items that he knew the children wanted and made a list with prices included. He absently wondered if he should buy anything for Thranduil. He had to get his boyfriend something! But what? What did one buy for someone who could afford whatever they wanted? What could he possibly get that would be special and mean something to Thranduil, without looking cheap or tacky? God, all Bard could afford was the cheap, tacky stuff. He really hoped Thranduil wouldn’t buy anything for him, or if he did that it was something small and inexpensive. Maybe he’d have to tell Thranduil not to get him a gift. He worried that if Thranduil bought something expensive for him that he’d just look stupid giving Thranduil some cheap piece of junk. That would be embarrassing.

Would their families get together on Christmas Day? Should he introduce the children to Thranduil before then so that it wouldn’t be awkward if they did spend time together for the holiday? Bard mentally compiled a list of things he needed to talk to Thranduil about. No big gifts. What’s happening for Christmas? Are we doing anything together? When do you want to meet the children? When do I get to touch you again?

Okay, no, maybe not that. But it was hard not to think about. Thranduil had awakened urges and desires in Bard that had been dormant for years. He wanted to kiss and touch and caress… But he could wait. He had gone without for over four years. He respected Thranduil too much to push. And he knew Thranduil was a bit sensitive now since the issue with the video evidence. As soon as Bard thought about that, he felt awful. He didn’t even deserve to touch Thranduil. He was lucky Thranduil was still speaking to him. What a fool he had been.

He shook his head at himself and finished off his lunch. He still had over fifteen minutes left on his break so he opened the calculator app on his phone and keyed in the estimated costs of the items he planned to get for the children. All together, it was well over five-hundred dollars. And he hadn’t even taken into consideration the cost of a gift for his parents. His mother had been complaining about their old run-down coffee machine, so he wanted to get them a Tassimo or Keurig. He didn’t even know how much those went for. Probably over a hundred. Fuck. He really would have to work overtime to dig himself out of the inevitable debt brought on by Christmas.

He stored his phone in his locker and punched in before heading back into the garage.  

His phone hadn’t buzzed at all during his break.

***

 

Watching those fucking videos at the police station left Thranduil with a permanent lump in his throat and a tight chest; it was as if his ribs were curling around his lungs like a dead spider; caving in, ready to suffocate him.

But after Thranduil picked up Legolas from school at noon, the weight in his chest lifted and he could breathe again. His son was one of the only people in the world who had the power to thoroughly distract him, get his mind off pointless negativity and take him to a better place. Bard was one of those people as well. So, Thranduil reminded himself to stop worrying; he was with his son right now and later tonight he’d be with his boyfriend – he was well distracted.

Legolas was still a ball of energy, so Thranduil decided to take him to the park right after school let out. They stayed there for a while, the cold doing nothing to prevent Legolas from having fun on the playground equipment. Thranduil watched him run around, kicking the soccer ball that had been stored in the trunk of the car since summer. Legolas practically flew on the monkey bars, so agile and swift he was. He stayed on the swing for a good fifteen minutes, going as high as he possibly could and laughing the entire time.

The cold finally became too much for both of them, and with enough begging, Legolas managed to persuade Thranduil into getting McDonald’s. They ordered at the drive-thru; Legolas got two cheeseburgers and fries, forgoing his usual happy meal. Thranduil wanted to try to eat better, and since he was having dinner with Bard this evening he didn’t want to stuff himself with crap now. Of course Legolas rolled his eyes and chuckled when Thranduil ordered a grilled chicken sandwich combo for himself.

“You’re supposed to get a real burger, Ada, not that fake chicken! Gross!” Legolas scrunched up his nose.

“Hey! At least I didn’t order a salad.”

“You should’ve gotten a Big Mac!”

“I don’t trust the meat, leaf. You remember Uncle Hal used to work at McDonald’s when we were teenagers. He told me all the secrets.”

“Ew, I don’t want to know what the meat is made of!”

“Just eat it in ignorance like the rest of the world.”

“Whatever that means.”

“It means, don’t worry about what it is, just enjoy it.”

“Like Hakuna Matata,” Legolas surmised.

“Yup, if you say so,” Thranduil chuckled.

Once they got their food, they headed home to eat. Thranduil parked in the driveway and they went in the front door. They were barely out of the winter clothing before the door burst open and a flurry of blonde hair appeared.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hal exclaimed, frantically unzipping his coat.

“God, I didn’t even have a chance to lock the door before you come barging in.”

“Uncle Hal!” Legolas squealed, hugging Hal with one arm.

“What have you got there? McDonald’s? And none for moi?!” Hal teased, ruffling Legolas’ hair.

“You can have my fries,” Thranduil said, as he hung up all three of their coats. He organized their boots in a neat row against the wall until Hal started clicking his tongue. “What?”

“Nothing, Mr. Perfectionist. I’m not here long, just wanted to stop by and see how things went.”

“Oh, it was fine. Just dandy.”

“Can I eat in the living room?” Legolas asked.

“Of course, just get a placemat and be careful not to spill anything on the sofa, okay?”

“Yes, Ada. I’ll be careful!” Legolas agreed, running off with the paper bag of food.

“What did you have to do?” Hal questioned once Legolas was in the living room and was no longer at risk of hearing their conversation.

“Interview, questioning, video watching, that sort of thing. I’d rather not talk about that shit now, though. I’m just glad it’s over.” The last thing Thranduil wanted was to be relentlessly interrogated by Hal. Hal had no shame when it came to questioning Thranduil about every single detail of his life. But right now, Thranduil would much prefer the vulgar, sexual questions over the serious, uncomfortable ones.

“Good,” Hal nodded, the curious expression still evident on his face. “Let’s not focus on bad things. You got through it, that’s the main thing.”

“Mmhmm,” Thranduil hummed, nodding. “And now I’m starving.”

They went into the living room so Thranduil could fetch his food from the bag. Then they headed into the kitchen, leaving Legolas alone in the living room where he ate silently while building something with his legos. Thranduil gave his fries to Hal and filled the kettle with water so they could have tea.

“He’s so cute in there with his legos,” Hal grinned. “You know you have the most adorable child in the world, right? I just want to pinch his cheeks every time I look at that little face!” He dug into the fries and shoveled a handful into his mouth.

“I know. He’s such a good kid. I’m very lucky. Maybe you should have a baby, Hal.” Thranduil teased.

“Oh, God! Me as a father? Me, pregnant?!” Hal put the back of his hand upon his forehead, tilting his head back. “Will you mop up the floor when my water breaks?!” Hal gasped, his face twisting into a scandalized expression.

“Oh, stop! You’re being completely ridiculous! You’d make a good father!” Thranduil said, finally opening up the box of his chicken sandwich and thoroughly examining it for any hairs. “Better than me, that’s for sure.”

“No way! You’re a great father, Thran. I’m only good with the leaf. Other children scare the shit outta me. Especially teenagers.” Hal made a face and shuddered. “When are you meeting Bard’s kids?”

Once the water had come to a boil, Hal filled both of their cups and dropped in the tea bags.

“I don’t know,” Thranduil answered, still scrutinizing his sandwich, taking it apart to check the inside. “I’m meeting Tilda on Sunday.”

“Right, right! I almost forgot! You’re getting the real tree and Bard is gonna cut it down like a hot, sweaty lumberjack! Maybe he’ll wear a plaid flannel jacket. Ow, ow!”

Thranduil snorted and rolled his eyes. “You want to get in bed with my boyfriend, don’t you?” He slapped his sandwich back together and took the first bite.

“Hell, I’d get in the backseat of a car with that divine piece of ass!”

“I am appalled!” Thranduil gasped, putting both hands to his open mouth. “He is not a piece of ass!”

“I bet he’s got a nice ass,” Hal said, staring off into space.

“Can you clear your mind, please?”

“Thran! I’m distracting you,” Hal deadpanned, eyes flickering back to Thranduil’s.

“What, so you can steal my food?”

“No, I’m distracting you so you don’t have to think about other things. Talking about Bard’s heavenly body is a pretty easy way to get your mind off all that legal bullshit.”

“Look at what I made!” Legolas shrieked from the living room and soon appeared, sliding into the kitchen, grasping something tightly in his hand. “Ada, Uncle Hal! Look at this!”

“What did you make?” Both Thranduil and Hal asked.

Legolas held out a little Lego person and proudly announced, “It’s me!”

“It’s adorable, Leaf,” Thranduil praised.

“With a dress? Are you a girl now, leafy?” Hal asked, and Thranduil shot him a look of warning. If Legolas wanted to make himself as a Lego person in a dress, then that was fine. No gender stereotypes in this house.

“No!” Legolas laughed, “I’m not a girl, but what’s that word the Scottish people use? Lass, right? For a girl? So…this is a Lego lass!” He smiled wide, clearly proud of his deduction.

“Aw, Leaf! You’re so clever!” Thranduil chuckled.

 “That’s adorable! So cute!” Hal wailed, laughing along with Legolas. It seemed he couldn’t resist the urge to pinch Legolas’s cheeks.

“Oh my god! Uncle Hal!” Legolas cried, cackling madly when Hal attempted to tickle him.

Legolas scurried away as quickly as his feet would take him, running back towards the living room. Hal shot out of his chair and chased Legolas around for a while, giving Thranduil a chance to take a few more bites of his food. He really should have gotten a burger. This chicken was bland. It had probably sat around all day just waiting for someone stupid enough to order a grilled chicken sandwich from a place like McDonald’s. No one ordered that!

Once Hal had returned to the kitchen and Thranduil had finished his meal, they drank their tea together. Thranduil tidied the kitchen while Hal talked gossip about people Thranduil didn’t know. He just smiled and nodded, indulging Hal. Before too long, Hal complained that he had to head back to work.

Legolas ran to Hal, giving him a hug and reminding him of their sleepover tonight.

“Yes, Leaf. I’ll be back in a few hours to pick you up!”

“We’re going to wrap the presents, right?”

“Of course! It’s our yearly tradition! Lots of cookies and hot chocolate, too.”

“Yay!” Legolas cheered. “I can’t wait! See you tonight.” He bid Hal farewell and retreated back to the living room to build more Lego creations.

Hal schooled his face into a mischievous grin, and eyed Thranduil, circling around him like a panther circling its prey.

“And, you,” Hal began, narrowing his eyes.

“Me?” Thranduil pointed to himself, feigning innocence. “What about me?”

“If you don’t wear that skimpy lingerie tonight, I’ll hang you with it.” Although Thranduil knew Hal was only joking, his expression was grave, like he fully meant it when he said he’d hang Thranduil with the lacy garments. Thranduil almost burst out laughing.

“I’d rather you choke me with it, or maybe use it to bind my wrists, or tie me to the bed…” Thranduil paused, quirking a brow.

“Oh my god! Stop it! Don’t even think about choking! You know the dangers of scarfing, Thran! I don’t want to find you dead with a boner, hanging from the rafters!”

“There are no rafters in this house, Hal. And I never said I wanted to scarf. Someone likes to jump to conclusions.”

“I knew a guy in college who died that way! Hanging there for the cleaning ladies to find him!” Hal said dramatically, shoving his arms into his coat.

“I’m not much of a scarfer. So no need to get excited.”

Hal zipped up his coat and turned for the door. “I’m always excited. So just remember, wear the lingerie, or let him tie you up with it, whatever. Just put it to use.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Thranduil nodded, escorting Hal out of the house.

“I’ll stop off at around five-thirty to pick up Legs, is that okay?”

“Yup, that’s good. See ya!” Thranduil called out as Hal trotted down the steps towards his white Audi.

“Ciao!” Hal called back, blowing a kiss in a most flamboyant fashion.

After Hal left, Thranduil played with Legolas for a bit and then turned on his laptop to show his son the house that he would be going to see on Monday.

“Can I come, too?” Legolas asked, voice filled with pure excitement. “I’m off now until January third!”

“Of course you’re coming, too. You get to pick your room!”

“Yeah? We’re going to buy it?”

“If we like it, then yes.”

“Woohoo! A new house!” Legolas cried, clapping his hands together. “It looks really nice,” he commented as he scrolled through pictures on Thranduil’s laptop. “You get this big room, Ada. I kinda like this one, and it has a nice bathroom, too! Ooh, and there’s a theatre! Sound proof and everything, so we can watch movies really loud!”

Thranduil smiled at Legolas’s enthusiasm. He was pleased that his son was just as excited as he was to move into a new home. “And the backyard is really big, too, so you’ll have a lot of place to play.”

“With a pool and a hot tub and an outdoor kitchen! Oh my god, and what’s this, a whole other house outside?” Legolas gaped, pointing to the screen.

“Yes, that’s the cabana. I think it’s supposed to have a private office or something.”

“I can live there!”

Thranduil laughed. “You’re not going to live out there, silly leaf.”

“I can play there, though.”

“That will probably be Ada’s studio. You can have a nice, big playroom in the basement.” He hadn’t even thought of it before now, but the cabana would make the perfect studio. It actually had windows. The natural light would be so much better than the false light in his basement studio. The prospect of creating a new workspace excited Thranduil to no end. And turning a portion of the basement into a playroom for Legolas was a wonderful idea as well. Thranduil was itching to begin painting and decorating the space.

“Yeah, the basement is so big. There’s even a gym!”

“Would you like a mural in your room? I was thinking I could paint one wall into a forest…”

“Oh my god, yes, please, Ada!”

“With little lights scattered about to make fireflies…”

“Yes! And deer!”

“Yeah? Deer?”

“In the forest…two deer. A big one and a little one.”

“Me and you?”

“Yes, and the forest is our sanctuary. We need fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, too!”

“Anything you want, little leaf. I’ll do it.” Thranduil smiled, pressing a kiss on his son’s head.

The time that he spent with Legolas was his sanctuary. He was more than grateful for his son, more than grateful that Legolas had this inexplicable ability to take away all negativity from Thranduil’s life with a single smile.

***

“Da, why are you in such a rush?” Sigrid asked as Bard fumbled to get his boots off, half tripping over the mat before heading quickly towards the kitchen.

“I’m going to Thran’s for supper. Should’ve told you guys sooner.”

“Tonight?” Bain asked from the living room.

“No, next month,” Bard joked. “Of course tonight.”

“For your birthday,” Tilda added.

“Right you are.” Bard gave her a pat on the head. He needed to start supper for the children before he showered and headed out. “I’ll make supper for you guys and then while I’m gone Sig will be in charge.”

“She’s always in charge,” Bain groaned, appearing in the kitchen with the videogame controller in hand. “When can I be in charge?”

“When Sig isn’t here.”

“Yeah, when I go away to college in a few years, then it’s all you.”

“I’ll never be in charge,” Tilda said as she began putting placemats on the table. “So, you’re not eating with us, Da?”

“Not tonight, honeybee. But tomorrow you’re doing supper for me, right?”

“Yes!” They chorused, Tilda bouncing excitedly on her heels.

“And today was the last day of school! Hell yes, vacation!” Bain cheered. “That means I can stay up later tonight, right Da?”

“Not too late, but a bit later, yes.” Bard agreed, scoping the pantry for meal ideas.

“When will you be home?” Sigrid questioned, tearing off pieces of paper towel, folding them into triangles and placing them on the placemats.

Bard didn’t know when he’d be home. What was an appropriate length of time to spend at Thranduil’s house? Was eleven too late? How long did Thranduil want him there? He didn’t want to impose.

“Your curfew is midnight, Da,” Bain said, now digging through the refrigerator. “We have ham. We could just have sandwiches…”

“Midnight is a bit late, but I’ll text, okay? Maybe eleven, no later than that. And yes, sandwiches. Get the ham out, please?”

“Okay,” Bain said, scrambling to get out the ham, cheese, mayo, mustard and lettuce before running back into the living room to turn off the videogame console.

Bard put the sandwich together in record speed, only stopping once he tossed each one on a plate and set them onto the table.

“Thanks, Da. You know I could’ve done it, right?” Sigrid said, taking her usual spot at the table next to Tilda.

“You don’t put enough cheese though!” Tilda clicked her tongue and shook her head dramatically.

Bard chuckled. “I know you could’ve, honey, but I need some sort of purpose around here. And Til, I put extra cheese on yours.”

“See, Da knows!”

“I do, indeed.”

Bain appeared in short order, clunking himself down into his chair. He shoved the first bite of his sandwich into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in a month. “So, this is another date?” He asked without preamble as Bard poured a glass of juice for Tilda.

Bard sighed in response to the question. Of course it was a date, but he shouldn’t have to admit that to the children. Before he even had a chance to reply, two more sets of eyes locked on him with quirked brows. Apparently all three of them were wondering the same thing.

“Is it, Da?” Tilda pursed her lips, looking confused.

“It is,” Sigrid confirmed with a smug smile.

“I have to go get ready now. If you’re still hungry you can eat some of the fruit before it goes bad.” Bard ducked out of the room, doing an expert job evading the question. He headed swiftly towards the stairs.

“I get to meet him on Sunday,” he heard Tilda say.

“Da’s too scared to let us meet him,” Bain replied to his sister.

With a grumble, Bard made his way up to his room and stripped down to nothing. He showered and washed his hair, shaved and then went to get dressed. He practically stumbled into his clothes; he was in such a rush to see Thranduil. He decided to wear the dark, distressed jeans that Sigrid had picked out for him last year. He paired the jeans with a simple button-up shirt with a plaid pattern, leaving the top three buttons undone. Nothing was worse than feeling like your shirt was locking you in a chokehold.

As he towel-dried his hair, his thoughts betrayed him and he began to worry once again. Despite Thranduil’s reassurances regarding that horrible video evidence, Bard was still bothered by his own actions. He just couldn’t seem to get over it! But he tried to push away his fears, reminding himself what Thranduil kept telling him – everything was fine, it was okay. So he’d go to Thranduil’s place tonight and enjoy himself without any worries whatsoever; he deserved to have a good time, and so did Thranduil. Bard brushed back his damp hair and grabbed his camera from where he’d left it to charge last night, and then made his way back down the stairs.

He was pleased to find the table cleared and the dishes put away. The children were all on the sofa watching the discovery channel. Bard took a drink of water from the kitchen sink and tried to steady his breath. God, the anticipation of seeing Thranduil always caused a strange thrumming in his chest and a shortness of breath. He felt jittery, but in the best way.

He said goodbye to the children and headed out with a grin plastered on his face.

Maybe he’d get to take some photographs tonight.

***

 

After getting a text from Bard saying he was on his way, Thranduil paced around the house, looking for things to tidy. But of course, nothing was out of place. So he walked around then sat on the couch, tapping his feet, then got up and walked around some more. His chest flooded with warmth when he thought about seeing Bard again, getting to hold him and kiss him and spend time with him. It was more than he could ask for; Bard was more than he could ask for.

He put the day’s trials behind him, not wanting anything to come between him and Bard tonight. Thranduil was very excited to see Bard’s photography. He hoped Bard remembered to bring his camera. He wondered what Bard’s photographs would be like. What was his style, what did he enjoy photographing, did he prefer colour photography or black and white? Would he take pictures of Thranduil? Would he show Thranduil any pictures that he took in the past?

The sound of the doorbell jolted Thranduil from his thoughts and his heart sped up tenfold. Bard was here! He rushed to the entrance, took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Hey, Thran,” Bard greeted, his voice smooth and calming, washing over Thranduil like the caress of a warm waterfall.

“Hey, Bard. Come on in.” He moved out of the way to let his boyfriend in the house, taking Bard’s coat to hang up as Bard removed his boots. He couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip when took in Bard’s intoxicating scent. He smelled delicious. Bard turned to Thranduil, leaving Thranduil completely helpless under his gaze. He couldn’t stop what he was about to do.

Thranduil kissed Bard on the lips. He relished in how wonderful it felt as Bard’s hands ran up and down his back, slowly and gently. His arms went around Bard’s waist, holding him closer; close enough that he could almost feel the beat of Bard’s heart against his own chest. And when he finally opened his eyes, he was rewarded with the most gorgeous smile he’d ever seen. God, Bard had an extremely attractive smile; it was enough to make Thranduil melt into a puddle on the floor. Quick, someone get a mop!

He smiled back and stroked Bard’s hair, pushing it out of his face.

“Thanks for having me over, Thran,” Bard said, still smiling.

“My pleasure. How was your day?”

“It was alright, same old. Better now, though. How about yours?”

“Mmm, mine’s better now, too,” Thranduil replied. His day really was better now that Bard was over and the worries of what had transpired at the police station were behind him.

“Good. Did the thing at the police station go okay?” Bard questioned, as if reading Thranduil’s mind. “You didn’t text me so I hope it wasn’t too bad.”

“It went about as well as expected. But I don’t want to talk about that. I’m just glad it’s over. Are you hungry? What would you like to eat?” Thranduil began walking to the kitchen, Bard following closely behind.

“Hmm, whatever you’d like. I’m not fussy.”

“We could cook something, or order take-out. It’s up to you; it’s your birthday, so you decide.”

“You know what I haven’t had in a long time?”

“What?”

“Chinese food.”

“I love Chinese.”

“Me, too,” Bard grinned. “Especially the spring rolls. I can eat about a half dozen of those things in under a minute.”

Thranduil chuckled, opening up the cupboard in search of the menu for the Chinese restaurant. “Then Chinese it is. They can deliver if you’d like, so we don’t have to go pick it up…”

“I have a request,” Bard said with hesitation. He rubbed the back of his neck before leaning on the counter.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if – well, uh, can I drive your car?”

“Yeah, sure, if you want to. Which one?”

“The Tesla,” Bard said, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought so.” Thranduil smirked. “Of course you can drive it. I’d actually prefer that to me driving it.”

“That’s some car, Thran. I can’t believe you’d actually let me drive it. You know it has a ludicrous button that you can press to go from 0 to 60 kilometers in less than three seconds?”

“I know, but that was a feature I decided I didn’t need. I’d probably press it accidentally and end up flying off an overpass. It would be a disaster.” Thranduil laughed at himself.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that. It really isn’t a feature that anyone would need.”

“Especially not me.”

“Would be cool to see it in action though,” Bard mused, grinning.

Together, they looked over the menu and when they’d both decided what they wanted to eat, Thranduil pulled out his mobile and placed the order. It would be ready in twenty minutes.

Standing around the kitchen with Bard felt very domestic and it made Thranduil’s heart beat quickly. He offered Bard something to drink, and much to his surprise Bard asked if he had any wine. Of course Thranduil had wine.

“I always have wine, Bard. If you’d like, you can come with me to choose.”

“Yeah, sure. You have a wine cellar, right?”

“That I do. Come.” Thranduil led Bard down the stairs into the basement. The wine cellar was located on the right of the staircase, in a cool, damp room.

Bard hummed, rubbing his chin as he looked over the selection. “White or red? I’m not exactly a wine connoisseur.” He laughed. “I’m not exactly a connoisseur of anything.”

“We had red last time, we could have white tonight.”

“Sure. What kind is good?”

“I like the Pinot Grigio,” Thranduil suggested.

“I’m down. Though, I’d be down if you suggested white wine from a box.”

Thranduil snorted. “No boxed wine. I’m not in college anymore.”

“You drank boxed wine in college?”

“It was cheap and you got a lot for your money. Like two litres for less than ten dollars; you can’t go wrong. ”

“I like a good bargain,” Bard chuckled.

“So do I. But tonight we’re going to pass up the bargain wine for something a little higher in quality.” Thranduil opened the wine fridge and took a bottle from one of the racks, held it out to Bard, who pretended to inspect it. Bard nodded firmly and they headed back up stairs.

“You got your stitches out,” Bard noted as they entered the kitchen and Thranduil dug around in a drawer for the corkscrew.

“I did. Just yesterday.”

“That’s good. You look good. Really good. But then again, you always do.”

“Thanks,” Thranduil said meekly. His cheeks felt hot. He was probably turning red as a tomato now. God, any little compliment Bard paid him went straight to his head and made him feel faint. He fumbled getting the wine bottle open and looked up at Bard, a shy smile on his face. “You look really good, too, you know.”

“Do I?” Bard looked surprised. Thranduil wondered how often Bard’s ex-wife had told him he looked good, or complimented him at all. It seemed a rare occurrence based on the expression on Bard’s face.

“You’re not used to someone telling you such things, are you?” Thranduil asked, setting two wine glasses on the counter and pouring equal amounts in each.

“Not really. Sometimes it’s hard to believe.” Bard took the wine glass and held onto the stem, not yet taking a sip.

“I know what you mean. I don’t always believe it.” Thranduil took a gulp of his wine and swirled it around in the glass, then set it back on the counter.

“Oh, c’mon, Thran! You must have some inkling of how attractive you are.”

Thranduil scoffed and shook his head. “So I’ve been told. But, most people have an agenda; they just want something from me. So, yes, I am aware of what I look like. But I think it’s you who doesn’t see how handsome you really are. You just haven’t been told enough. But don’t worry, we can change that. I think you’re the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.”

“Thran, you’re making me blush.”

“It’s the truth, no matter how much it burns your cheeks.”

“Well, thank you,” Bard finally said. He looked directly in Thranduil’s eyes, and never before had Thranduil wanted to haul him up to the bedroom so badly. But he held off. And instead, he wrapped both arms around Bard and held him close, drowning himself in Bard’s scent. The way Bard’s hands felt rubbing slowly up and down his back felt good, comforting, like home.

When they eased out of the hug, Bard gave Thranduil a curious look. “When you say people have an agenda, that they want something…”

“I mean, they want to fuck. Or they want my money.” Thranduil clarified, maybe a little too bluntly.

“Ah, that’s shitty. Do you believe me when I tell you that I don’t want that?”

“I believe it when you say it, but deep down in my core, it’s hard to believe coming from anyone. Like I said, I know what I look like, and that is all people see. An object, something to use.”

“Well, I don’t want to use you, and you are not an object.” Bard frowned. Thranduil didn’t like seeing him frown; he wanted to see that gorgeous smile again. “You are worth so much more. I hope one day I can help you see that, and believe it.”

“You already help. I don’t feel that way with you; I feel like you truly care about me and not just my ass, for lack of a better term.” Thranduil smiled, hoping to encourage Bard to do the same.

His heart did a back flip in his chest when Bard smiled back at him. “It’s a nice ass, I won’t lie, but it doesn’t define you. I want to know _you_ , not just your ass.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said, and the weirdest,” Thranduil chuckled, interlocking his fingers with Bard’s before letting Bard envelop him in another warm embrace. It felt so good to be in Bard’s arms, to feel safe and….loved.

Could Bard love him? Would that ever happen? The thought made Thranduil lightheaded, so he stepped away and distracted himself by taking a long sip of his wine.

In an effort to change the topic, Thranduil asked about Bard’s camera. “So, did you bring your camera?”

“Ah, yes, my camera. I forgot it in the car. You want me to get it?”

“We should probably go pick up the food first. You can show me when we get back.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They got bundled up in their winter jackets, slipped on their boots and headed into the garage. Thranduil dangled the car keys in front of Bard, who took them graciously and unlocked the car doors. Apparently Bard still couldn’t believe that Thranduil allowed him to drive the Tesla; he kept asking if it was okay that he was sitting in the driver’s seat. Thranduil had to reassure Bard a few times that it was fine; it was preferable. For some reason, Thranduil felt safe with Bard driving. It could be because Bard was a mechanic, and it made sense that a mechanic would have a good understanding of cars and how to operate one better than someone without that knowledge, or it could be because Bard himself had a very soothing presence. Either way, it was nice to feel safe in a car. And it was nice to have someone else drive, someone he didn’t have to yell at to slow down, or stop riding peoples’ asses, like he had to do with Hal. It was strange, but the way Bard drove a car, gave Thranduil the impression that he was a very emotionally stable person, which is exactly what Thranduil needed in his life. The idea made him smile and gave him a sense of hope that he could get better, he could live happily one day without this constant emotion turmoil controlling him. Bard was good for him. But would he good for Bard? That was the real question. It was a question he did not yet know the answer to.

When they arrived at the restaurant, they both went inside to the take-out counter, and Thranduil shooed Bard out of the way when he insisted on paying. Thranduil wasn’t about to let Bard pay on his birthday. That was ridiculous. So he tapped his card on the machine before Bard even had a chance to get his wallet open, and smiled victoriously.  Bard thanked him several times before they got back in the car, and a few more times once Bard started the car and headed back to Thranduil’s house. It was sweet just how kind Bard was, how much he appreciated the things so many others seemed to take for granted.

“This car rides like a dream,” Bard commented as he pulled into the driveway.

_I bet you ride like a dream_ , Thranduil thought, trying to suppress a smirk.

Once they were back in the house, Thranduil and Bard set themselves up in the sitting room. They sat on cushions on the floor, the take-out boxes crowding the coffee table in front of them. Bard leaned back against the sofa and popped a chicken ball into his mouth. He’d brought his camera inside, and it was sitting on the floor beside him, in a lunch bag.

“Don’t you have a proper bag for your camera?” Thranduil asked, shoveling a forkful of orange chicken into his mouth.

“I never had a chance to get one, so I always just carried it around in a lunch bag.”

“Very resourceful,” Thranduil grinned.

“I thought so. I guess a real camera bag would be better, but they’re expensive and it’s not really in the budget this month, with Christmas only a few days away.”

“Have you started shopping yet?”

“Nope.”

Thranduil laughed.

“I’m gonna do all that tomorrow.”

“Good luck with that. Stores will be packed.”

“My worst nightmare,” Bard mock-shuddered.

“Can I see your camera now?” Thranduil asked.

Bard took his camera out of the lunch bag and held it at eye level as he turned it on. He pressed a few buttons and muttered under his breath, “shit.”

“Shit, what?”

“I guess I never deleted all these old pictures from a few years ago.”

“Ooh,” Thranduil exclaimed, all of a sudden very excited. It was his lucky day; he would get to see some of the photographs Bard had taken. He wondered how good they would be. “Can I look at them?”

“I guess, if you want. They’re probably not very good.”

“Don’t say that. There are no….compromising pictures though, right?”

“Like naked pictures? No, but, shit. There might be some of Madison.”

“I don’t mind,” Thranduil assured. “So… can I see?”

Bard nodded, handing the camera to Thranduil. “The old SD card is still in there,” Bard said. “Look through at your own risk.”

Thranduil set down his fork and held the camera firmly in both hands. Good thing he hadn’t started digging into the spring rolls with his fingers yet; he wouldn’t want to get Bard’s camera full of grease. “Ooh, it’s a Nikon. Fancy, fancy.” As Thranduil examined the camera, Bard leaned in closer.

“Yes, fancy schmancy. It was a Christmas gift from my parents a few years back.” Bard said, leaning so close his right arm was pressed against Thranduil’s left. “Here, press this button to view the pictures and these ones to scroll.” Bard demonstrated, pressing the buttons for Thranduil.

“Okay, got it,” Thranduil grinned when he saw the first picture that had appeared on the screen. It was a black and white picture of a little girl eating an ice cream cone, making a terrible mess all over her face and hands. “Aw, is this Tilda? How do I zoom in?”

Bard chuckled. “Yeah that’s the little honeybee. She was so young then, so messy. Oh, and here, use this,” Bard demonstrated, moving his finger on a switch just below the shutter button. “Like this to zoom in and like that to zoom back out.”

Once Thranduil got the hang of it, Bard went back to his food. “She’s adorable.” Thranduil grinned, still looking at the same picture.

“She is, isn’t she? And such a chatterbox, too. I don’t know how she has so much energy.” Bard said, between bites of a spring roll. “Fuck, this is good.”

“It looks like you’re really enjoying it from the way you’re stuffing it in your mouth.” Thranduil snorted, laughing loudly at the way Bard shoved a whole spring roll into his mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

Bard waved a hand, trying not to laugh with his mouth full of food. “I’ll stuff you in my mouth!” He teased once he’d swallowed the spring roll. Thranduil feigned a gasp and before he knew it Bard made a move to tickle him.

“Oh my god! No, no, no! I am so ticklish, fuck!” Thranduil shouted, laughing instinctively the closer Bard’s hands got to him. He set Bard’s camera on the back of the sofa and squirmed away, sliding off the cushion and onto the floor.

“Come back,” Bard moaned, dragging out the words. “I promise I won’t tickle you.”

“You’ll stuff me in your mouth? That sounds a little raunchy to me.”

“It’s not my fault your mind is in the gutter.”

“I object. It is one-hundred percent your fault.”

“How so?” Bard protested, still unable to keep himself from chuckling.

“Well, let’s just say if I was eating my orange chicken alone like a sad motherfucker, my mind would not be in the gutter. It’s this,” Thranduil gestured to Bard’s body with a flail of his hand.

“This?” Bard raised both eyebrows, pointing to himself.

“You. You’re hotter than the General Tso chicken.”

“It’s not even hot.”

“It is to me.”

“You’re being too generous to General Tso.”

“Nope, no false generosity here. I think it’s hot. It burns my tongue but I still can’t resist it. It’s too good to resist.”

Bard laughed. “Are we still talking about the chicken?”

“No. I’m talking about you,” Thranduil smirked.

Bard blushed at that and went back to stuffing food in his mouth. It was adorable how shy he was.

Thranduil continued scrolling through the pictures on Bard’s camera, a big goofy grin painted on his face. There were all sorts of pictures; pictures of Bard’s children, scenery, a dying flower in the snow, icicles on bare tree branches, cigarette butts in an ashtray, a macro shot of a dragonfly – which really impressed Thranduil, how did Bard manage to get so close to a dragonfly to be able to photograph it in such amazing detail? He kept flicking through the images, zooming in on some every now and then. There was a picture of a girl, who Bard told Thranduil was his eldest daughter, Sigrid, posing with a lot of make-up on, another of Bard’s son, Bain, doing a handstand in the park, his youngest, Tilda, sitting by the lake in front of a sunset. Every picture was astounding; Thranduil couldn’t help but gawk. Bard had an uncanny ability to capture such life in his photos, such powerful emotions he could bring forth with the angles he used, the lighting he chose. These photographs could be in a gallery. Thranduil looked at the next picture. It was a portrait of Tilda in black and white, except one colour was accented – green. Tilda’s eyes, her headband, her sweater all came to life with that one colour. Thranduil really liked the composition of that photo. He’d like a picture of Legolas like that with blue as the accent colour, highlighting his son’s eyes.

It was strange to see Bard’s children in photographs before actually meeting them in person, but it was nice to be able to get a glimpse into their lives. They all looked so much like Bard – Bain had the same unruly hair, Tilda had the same eyes, and Sigrid had the same smile. The next photo Thranduil came across was of a woman, probably Madison. He narrowed his eyes, examining the picture. That drew Bard to put down his food and lean in so he could take a look at the screen.

“Sorry about that. I told you there’d be pictures of her. Looking very unhappy as usual.”

“It’s okay, Bard,” Thranduil said, not taking his eyes off the photo.

He tried to imagine what Madison was like. She was pretty; there was no doubt about that. She had mid-length brown hair, not curly, but a bit wavy, and soft green eyes. Her clothing was very simple – a classic look, nothing too over the top. But Bard was right, she didn’t look happy in any of the pictures. She looked…preoccupied, like there was something else on her mind, like she didn’t really want to be there. Even in pictures with her children, she looked distant, never really interacting with them. Thranduil wondered if she had always been like that, or if certain circumstances had awakened such traits that were otherwise dormant.

“Thran, c’mon, you don’t have to look at pictures of her. I should’ve deleted them,” Bard said, reaching for the camera.

“Hey, I don’t mind. I know you had a wife, a past, a life before you met me. That’s fine; I’m not bothered by it. Your photos really are amazing. You have a gift, Bard. Very talented.”

Bard’s eyes widened and his expression shifted. He looked completely dumbfounded, like he could not fathom the words Thranduil spoke.

“My – you think – they’re good? You actually think they’re good?” Bard stammered, running a hand through his hair.

“Hell yes. They’re wonderful. So expressive. The way you’re able to convey different moods is just… unbelievable. The contrast, the lighting, or as we would say in the painting world – the chiaroscuro – it just gives the photos this element of depth. You take amazing shots of people, but I really love these more abstract ones – the cigarette butts, the cobblestones, the broken bottles.”

Bard blushed, looking down at his hands. “The contemplative photography. I’ve always enjoyed that the most, photographing something mundane, boring, or ugly and giving it depth, making it beautiful. Other people may see these objects as ruined, but I see them as something with hidden beauty, you just have to find the right angle, the proper lighting, then you can coax out that beauty.”

“I like that; a very artsy thing to say. Maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

“I’m no artist.”

“But you have this ability to create something beautiful. So many of your photographs remind me of abstract art. Sure, not everyone will appreciate the subject matter, but no one can deny the emotional intensity you capture.”

“You’re just being nice.”

“No, I’m serious. You know how many people tell me my abstract paintings are shit, that a kindergartener could paint the same thing? That there is no meaning to them and therefore they are not valid? Too many people to count. But I say fuck those people. When I first started painting I really let those comments get to me, I let it dictate what I created and in the end I produced art that I wasn’t happy with. First and foremost, you need to create for yourself. When you put your heart and soul into it, it will show.” Thranduil handed Bard’s camera back to him. “But I think you are your own worst critic. You doubt your skill and don’t give yourself enough credit.” Bard took the camera and shrugged, drawing Thranduil to shake his head. “Take a picture of something.”

“If I even remember how to take a picture,” Bard snorted. “I think you have too much confidence in me.”

“Or maybe you just don’t have enough confidence in yourself. So go ahead, take a picture.”

Bard pointed the camera at the bottle of wine that sat on the coffee table and snapped a picture. “There. It looks awful.”

“Sometimes it takes a while before it starts to look good. A warm-up is all it is. Keep going. Take a picture of something else,” Thranduil encouraged.

“Of what?”

“Whatever catches your eye.”

Bard pressed a few buttons, the lens shifting, making little mechanical sounds. He held the camera up, looking through the viewfinder, angling it towards Thranduil. Immediately, Thranduil looked away.

“Good,” Bard said. “Stay like that. Tilt your head up a bit…”

Thranduil did so, holding his breath for what felt like a lifetime. If Bard was going to take a profile picture of him, he wanted to make sure he didn’t have a double chin.

Finally, the shutter clicked.

“Don’t move,” Bard instructed in a gentle tone. Thranduil held his breath and stayed still.

_Click, click, click._

Suddenly, Bard’s fingers were on Thranduil’s chin, angling his face towards the camera. Thranduil grinned before letting his expression turn neutral. He put on his best seductive-model-face and Bard snapped a picture.

“Gorgeous,” Bard whispered, smiling from behind the camera.

Thranduil flipped his hair over one shoulder, mussing it up a bit before Bard took another shot. Then, Thranduil turned his body away from Bard, shook out his hair and looked over his shoulder with a coy expression.

“God, you’re beautiful. You could be a model.”

“Only for you,” Thranduil murmured, turning to face Bard once again.

He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Bard’s lips, which Bard returned eagerly but softly. Bard set the camera on the sofa and ran both hands through Thranduil’s hair, smoothing it out over his shoulders. When their lips parted, Bard picked up a spring roll.

“Here, hold this spring roll,” Bard said, handing it to Thranduil.

“A spring roll? Why am I holding a spring roll?”

“You have nice hands, as we’ve already established, so I want a picture of them.”

Thranduil grinned. Ah, yes, he remembered Bard’s hand fetish. “How do you want me to hold it? Delicately like this,” Thranduil held the spring roll gently between the tips of his fingers, “or like this,” he grasped it in the palm of his hand, “like I’m holding a cock.”

Bard laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. He looked like he was blushing, too. “Not like you’d hold a cock, no. Hold it delicately.”

“Okay.” Thranduil held the spring roll between his fingers. “You can always get a shot of my cock-holding pose later.”

“Stop it, you,” Bard chuckled. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Bastard,” Bard mumbled as he pressed buttons on the camera, setting it up for the shot.

He snapped a few pictures of Thranduil’s hand holding the spring roll and then looked up and smiled.

“Can I eat it now?” Thranduil questioned, inching the spring roll towards his mouth very slowly. “Get a shot of this.” He pushed half the spring roll into his mouth and curled his lips around it in a very sensuous manner, trying not to laugh as Bard snapped away.

“That’s a great look,” Bard laughed. “You know what would look better than your perfect hand holding a spring roll?”

“What?” Thranduil asked, still chewing. He could think of a certain something he could wrap his hand around, and then his mouth… But he wouldn’t dare say it aloud.

“Your perfect hand holding a paintbrush. I’d love to photograph you in your element.”

“Ooh, yes, but let’s finish eating first.”

“Agreed.”

They continued eating in companionable silence and within mere minutes all the food was gone. Thranduil leaned against the sofa, patting his stomach. God, was there ever a time he didn’t eat until he felt sick?

“Oh! You know what else?” Bard said, as if an idea had just struck him.

“Hmm?” Thranduil hummed as he took a sip of wine.

“Your beautiful hands playing the piano, or the violin. Those would make great shots.”

“Let’s do it. I’m your model for the night, just tell me how to pose and I’ll do anything you want.”

“You wouldn’t really do anything, would you?” Bard quirked a brow and a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Well, I won’t go out in the snow with no clothes on, but I’ll pretty much do anything here in the safety of the house. I’ve drawn pictures of you, so now it’s your turn to take pictures of me.”

Bard shuffled up onto the sofa and stretched himself out, bringing one arm over his head. He looked like dessert that Thranduil couldn’t refuse.

“Draw me like one of your French girls?” Bard asked, putting on a pouty face.

Thranduil laughed. “Yes, Rose, anything you ask.” He moved closer so he was leaning over Bard, stroking the side of Bard’s face. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of Bard’s neck and whispered in his ear. “But you’ll have to lose the clothing.” He gave a little tug to Bard’s shirt.

“You’re such a fucker.”

“The best fucker you’ll ever meet,” Thranduil joked, moving back so he could look Bard in the eyes. He hoped he would be the best fucker Bard had ever met.

“I have no doubt.” Bard leaned forward and captured Thranduil’s lips in a kiss. It was more fierce and passionate then their previous kisses that night, and it made Thranduil’s pants tight. God, how he wanted Bard! But not now, no. Now he would let Bard reignite his passion for photography, and maybe coax Bard into playing some music with him.

They smiled at each other and lingered a while longer in each other arms before they made a move to clean up their empty take-out boxes. After everything was thrown away, they headed downstairs. Bard had the strap of his camera around his neck and he held the camera itself with one hand.

“Oh!” Bard exclaimed when they entered Thranduil’s studio. “Is that the commission you’re working on? It looks amazing!”

“Oh, thanks,” Thranduil felt his cheeks heat up. “Yeah, that’s what I’m working on now. It’s almost done.”

“It’s so realistic. It almost looks like a photograph,” Bard commented, taking a closer look. “Holy shit, Thran. Look at this detail!” Bard leaned in to examine the painting, his nose mere inches away from it.

“It’s taking a while to finish because there are so many little details left.”

“I’m in awe. You can do abstract, realism, everything!”

“I try,” Thranduil said modestly. He didn’t like to boast about his artistic abilities. It was his belief that with enough practice anyone could become a great artist. It just took a lot of discipline and dedication. One day Bard would be a great artist, too; he just needed to believe in himself. His photographs were already great works of art; he just didn’t know it yet.

As Bard looked at Thranduil’s painting, Thranduil pondered ways for Bard to make a name for himself as a photographer. He would need to show his work in a gallery, hold an exhibit. Maybe Thranduil could be his connection to the art world…

“Will you paint now?” Bard asked, pulling Thranduil from his internal planning.

“You want to take pictures?”

“Yeah, if that’s cool with you…”

“Of course.”

“Just pretend I’m not here,” Bard said, hiding behind his camera.

“Okay, I’ll try,” Thranduil grinned and picked up a white plastic palette. He squeezed out a small amount of white and blue paint, held the palette in one hand and picked up a very tiny detailing brush with the other hand.

Then, he began to mix the colours and apply the paint to the canvas. If Bard took photographs, Thranduil didn’t even notice. He let himself get lost in his art, as Bard got lost in his. Bard moved around him quietly, but Thranduil could feel his presence and every now and then, Thranduil would look over his shoulder and see Bard smiling behind the camera.

“You want to try painting something?” Thranduil finally said, curious to see what Bard would paint if he was given the opportunity.

***

 

Bard stopped short. What did Thranduil ask him? Did he want to try painting? Was that what he said? Bard was so caught up in snapping pictures, changing the aperture and shutter speed on his camera, looking for the right angle that he barely registered what Thranduil had said. God, Thranduil was a beautiful specimen. So graceful, so ethereal.

“What?” He finally asked, looking away from his camera to give Thranduil his full attention. “You want me to paint?”

“Yeah, I think it would be fun to see what you’d create. And maybe let me take pictures of you.”

“Role reversal, then,” Bard chuckled. “But I’ll warn you now, I can’t paint for shit.”

“Neither can I,” Thranduil said. What the hell was he talking about? He was a professional artist. He probably made more money from painting in a year than Bard would make in his entire life. “I mean, look at these abstracts,” Thranduil continued, gesturing to the canvases leaning against the wall. “They’re so juvenile. They’re like something from a first grade art class.”

“Don’t be silly,” Bard began to protest. “They’re amazing.”

“I’m just kidding, Bard. But really, anyone can do this. So, why don’t you give it a try?”

Why not? Maybe it would be fun to slather paint onto a canvas. “Sure, I’ll try it.”

“Good!” Thranduil said in an enthusiastic tone. His smile was brighter than Bard had seen all evening. It was nice to see him smile, to see him happy. It made Bard happy to know he could bring joy to Thranduil.

“What do I have to do?” Bard asked.

“First, let me have the camera.” Bard handed the camera to Thranduil, who put the strap around his neck. “And I’ll get you a blank canvas.” Thranduil sorted through a stack of canvases he had propped against a desk. He took his commission off the easel and disappeared into a little room to store it. Then he reappeared and put the blank canvas on the easel and adjusted it.

“And now I just…paint?”

“What colours do you like?”

“Red, and blue and maybe…yellow.”

“The three primaries?” Thranduil laughed. “Okay, that’s a good start. Here are some clean brushes, so just squirt out the paint on the palette and go for it. Slap it, smear it, throw it, do whatever you want.”

Bard put some of each colour onto the palette and dipped a large brush into the paint, then attacked the canvas with a wild stroke. Thranduil practically cheered him on and the encouragement helped get Bard out of his head. He smacked the brushes against the canvas with red, and then blue, then he went in with a little yellow in the blank spaces. Thranduil was behind him snapping pictures of Bard’s every move, and it made Bard smile so hard his cheeks hurt.

For the first time in a long time, Bard was having fun. He was actually enjoying himself. He was able to laugh and let loose with Thranduil. He wasn’t forced to hold back, or hide how he felt. He could just _be_. Thranduil brought out the best in him, and didn’t shut him down, or put a damper on his ideas like Madison had.

“You look sexy when you paint,” Thranduil said, drawing Bard to turn around to see if Thranduil was still taking pictures of him.

“Do I?” Bard asked, snorting. He couldn’t fathom the thought of himself looking sexy, ever. 

“You’re always sexy,” Thranduil smirked as he held up the camera and took another picture of Bard’s smile.

Bard blushed, not knowing what to say. He was not used to compliments, they made him feel awkward. “Thanks, doll. But really, you’re the sexy one here. How about you help me out? I don’t think I have much skill when it comes to painting.”

“Alright, well you need a focal point. It’s good to have a larger one near one corner, and a smaller one in the other corner, but not too far up or down. So maybe put this blue over here and let it mix in a bit with the yellow so it will create something visually appealing.” Thranduil took a paint brush, dipped it in water and blended some blue with the yellow that was already on the canvas. “See, like that. Then it sort of balances out. It always looks better when it’s asymmetrical, unless you’re doing a Pollock style painting – that’s more decorative, so it doesn’t need a focal point. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Ramble away,” Bard grinned. “It’s like I’m getting personal lessons from a painting master.”

Thranduil snorted. “I am not a master!”

“Yes you are!” Bard thought Thranduil was far too modest for someone with such talent. What wasn’t Thranduil good at? He had so many skills. He was truly a jack of all trades. Bard wondered what other skills Thranduil possessed that he hadn’t yet shared.

“Psh!” Thranduil waved off the compliment. “I think your painting looks good. It might need to be refined a bit, but I bet I could put it in an exhibit and someone would pay a lot of money for it.”

“No way. Don’t fuck with me.”

“I don’t fuck. It’s true.” Thranduil nodded firmly.

Bard shook his head. He’d be on his deathbed before he ever believed such a ridiculous thing. “My son likes to paint,” he commented, flicking the brush over the canvas a few more times. How did you know when an abstract painting was complete?

“Ooh, that’s great! How long has he been painting? Is he any good?”

“He’s been into it since he started grade nine art classes. I guess they’re more intense than the elementary school classes. He doesn’t let anyone see his paintings, though.”

“Ah, it’s normal to be self-conscious at first. In time he’ll let you see his work. He just needs to gain confidence first.”

“I hope so,” Bard said, narrowing his eyes at the painting before him. It didn’t look half bad; but then again, he wasn’t exactly an art critic. But he thought he did pretty good for his first ever attempt at painting. “I never realized how expensive art supplies were until I had to buy them for Bain at the beginning of the school year. He needs more now and it’s just…”

“Oh!” Thranduil exclaimed, pointing a finger to the sky. “I have something! Just wait here, keep painting. I’ll be right back!”

Thranduil ran off into the room where he stored his paintings, and reappeared a moment later with two large bags. He set the bags outside the door and disappeared back into the room. What was he doing? What was in the bags? Did he have something to show Bard?

He was toting two big canvases and four smaller sized ones under both arms as he approached Bard.

“You need help?” Bard asked, taking the canvases from Thranduil and propping them against the wall.

“Yes, thanks. Let me get this other stuff.” He grabbed the bags and set them beside the canvases.

“What are we doing with this stuff? Bard inquired, taking a look inside the bags at a plethora of art supplies – tubes of paint, brushes, sponges, various tools, things that Bard couldn’t even identify…

“It’s for Bain.”

“What?” Bard looked up from the bag, his jaw dropping. Did he hear Thranduil correctly?

“Yeah, I want him to have it,” Thranduil nodded.

“Holy shit, Thran. How much did all this cost? I can’t accept such a generous gift!”

“Sure you can. I’ll never use it and I have more than enough. Your son would make better use of it than I would.”

“B – but, I – I—” Bard stuttered. How could he accept all of these art supplies? Sure, he needed them for Bain. He’d have to buy all these things eventually, and probably have to settle for lower quality items… He shook his head. He’d checked the prices on those large canvases before; some were over fifty dollars. And some of the tubes of paint were over ten dollars apiece. It was too much!

“Bard, please. I’d like him to have it.”

“He would be ecstatic, I’m sure.”

“So?”

“This is very generous of you, Thran.”

“Any way to help support young, inspiring artists,” Thranduil said. “So you’ll accept?”

“Yes, for my son. It will mean a lot to him, as it means a lot to me. Thank you, doll. You don’t know how much this helps me.”

“I’m happy I can help.”

“God, I don’t even know what to say.” Bard stood up and hugged Thranduil, still feeling a bit strange for accepting such an expensive gift. “Can I take pictures of you with the violin and piano?” He suggested. As grateful as Bard was for Thranduil’s generosity, he’d do pretty much anything to switch the focus off of himself.  

“Yes!” Thranduil clapped his hands together and bounced out of the room, Bard following closely behind with his camera in hand.

Thranduil set up his violin and before long Bard was witnessing a symphony. He took several photos and tried his best to highlight Thranduil’s best features, which wasn’t too difficult since all of Thranduil’s features were beautiful. He took shots of Thranduil’s hand holding the end of the bow oh, so delicately, and more shots of his other hand in position on the neck of the violin, holding onto the strings. Thranduil had tied his hair back into a knot, so Bard took pictures of the nape of his neck and the space where his neck and shoulder met. He took another shot of Thranduil’s arm extended as he held the bow, and a profile view of his head bent, the violin tucked beneath his chin. It was easy to be a photographer when you had such a photogenic, beautiful model to work with. No shots ever turned out bad.

As Thranduil continued to play a classical song Bard did not know, Bard looked through the pictures he had taken. He was surprised at how good they turned out. The settings he’d chosen really helped emphasize Thranduil’s natural beauty. He was impressed with himself. Then he came to the pictures Thranduil had taken of him and he couldn’t help but smile. Thranduil actually took some pretty good shots. But of course, Bard didn’t like any photograph that he was in. He much preferred to stay hidden behind the camera.

“Babe, are you gonna play along?” Thranduil stopped playing and looked at Bard, then bit his lower lip. “I want you to play with me.” He played the first few notes of the Pirates of the Caribbean theme and shot Bard a flashy grin. “Yeah?”

God, the way Thranduil practically purred when he called him _babe_ made Bard melt. How could Bard say no to such a gorgeous face? He felt his whole body tingling, buzzing with excitement. He wasn’t going to disappoint Thranduil; he was going to play the guitar.

“Alright, you win,” Bard teased before picking up the guitar. He strummed experimentally to see if it needed to be tuned, but it didn’t. It was still in tune from when he’d played it last week. He ignored the strange feeling in his stomach when he thought about whose guitar he was playing, and instead he played along with Thranduil.

It was easy to get lost in the music, easy to escape to another world. When he was with Thranduil, everything felt right. He could be himself, he could make suggestions, he could offer his opinion and Thranduil never made him feel like an idiot. It was so refreshing to be with someone who inspired and motivated him to be a better version of himself.

“You’re having fun, aren’t you?” Thranduil asked when they’d finished their fourth song.

“I am,” Bard admitted, unable to wipe the smile off his face. “More fun than I’ve had in a long time.”

“Me, too,” Thranduil said, the smile on his face mirroring Bard’s. “It’s been a while since I’ve actually had fun playing music. Especially this kind of music. My father hated when I played modern songs. He always bitched at me about it.” Thranduil rolled his eyes. “I haven’t been playing thousands of dollars for violin lessons for you to play this shitty music!” He droned on in a deeper voice, clearly imitating his father.

“I take it he only wanted you to play classical music?”

“Yeah, he’s a bit old fashioned. And a real dick.”

“Tell me about him. And your mom. What are they like? You dad is a criminal defense attorney, that much I know. What about your mom?” Bard asked.

“My mom died almost nine years ago, right after Legolas was born.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bard said, feeling bad for bringing it up.

“It’s okay. I was prepared for it. She’d been sick since I was about sixteen. Brain cancer. It got really bad when I was away in school. I actually never graduated University because I left to be with her. And my dad, well he was always an asshole. Abusive, controlling; I was never good enough for him. He didn’t like that I wanted to make art my career, because according to him it’s not a real job and you can’t make a living that way, but that only pushed me to prove him wrong.”

“And you did,” Bard offered a smile.

“I did,” Thranduil agreed. “But he still likes to stop by once a year and tell me how much of a fuck up I am. I try to mentally prepare myself for his visit every year, but as soon as he opens his mouth it’s like I’m ten years old again and I can’t hold my shit together.”

“That’s understandable, Thran. Of course you’re going to react if he’s being a royal asshole. When does he usually stop by?”

“Around New Years, so… pretty soon.”

Bard hummed. “Imagine how bothered he’d be if you didn’t react at all to the things he said, no matter how hurtful they are.”

“That’s always my plan going into it, but in the moment it’s hard not to let it get to me.”

“His opinion doesn’t mean anything; just try to look at it like that. Nothing that he says can affect your life.”

“You’re right. And wouldn’t that take him by surprise? His emotionally unstable son finally pulling  himself together and giving no fucks.” Thranduil chuckled. “It would really make him feel stupid.”

Bard shook his head, unable to comprehend how a parent could be so unloving towards their own child. “I just can’t understand how someone could treat their own child so poorly. Has he always been like that?”

“Yeah, pretty much. He always pushed me to be the best at everything, and when I wasn’t I would get scolded quite harshly. My whole childhood revolved around my music, and then in high school he pressured me to study law. He wanted me to go to law school and be just like him. He didn’t like that I defied him. He’d always been very strict, very cold and distant. He was not a loving or affectionate father. He never told me he loved me or that I made him proud. I craved his approval as a child, but now I try not to let it bother me. It doesn’t matter if he’s ashamed of me.”

“God, he has nothing to be ashamed of! You’re so talented and so successful. Doesn’t he at least acknowledge that? What’s there to be ashamed of?”

“Lots of things. He never acknowledged my success, because to him being a successful artist is an embarrassment. He associates art with femininity. That’s why he’s so ashamed of me. It all started when I decided to grow my hair out. He kept telling me how I looked like a girl and how if any of his colleagues saw me they would ask him if he had a daughter instead of a son. The fact that I wasn’t into sports or any other so-called masculine activities made him even more embarrassed of me. He hated being seen with me because being a feminine man is just as bad as being a woman. And then there’s the sexuality issue, but that’s not even worth discussing.”

“That’s so fucked up, Thran. None of that should matter.”

“Right? But he doesn’t see me as a human being, he sees me as a failed abortion.”

“Thran! Don’t say that. It hurts me to hear you say that.”

Thranduil snorted. “Once, when he was really upset with me, he told me something that I will never forget. He said, ‘I should’ve kicked your mother in the stomach when she was pregnant with you and dealt with the problem myself.’”

Bard’s jaw dropped. What kind of a person said such a thing to their own child?! He was at a loss for words.

“I shouldn’t even be talking about this. I didn’t want the conversation to get so heavy. Why don’t you tell me about your parents…” Thranduil’s brow creased as he looked at Bard.

“It’s okay, Thran. That’s a horrible way to be treated by your own father. If you need to talk about it, you can.”

“No, no, I don’t need to talk about it. It’s over; it’s no longer an issue. It’s just a bit difficult to not get worked up about it when he comes up in conversation. So what are your parents like?”

“My parents have always been very loving and supportive. They care a lot about me, and I’m grateful that I still have them both in my life. I feel bad talking about how great they are when you didn’t have the same in your life.”

“Baby, I’m sorry I ruined the mood. We were having so much fun. I’m glad you have good parents, so don’t feel bad talking about how great they are.”

“I ruined the mood, doll. I asked you about your father, so that’s my bad.”

“Pft, he’s a velociraptor, so let’s not worry about him anymore. He’s not worth it.” Thranduil shrugged and tucked the violin back under his chin. He played a few scales and then the first few notes of a song. Bard recognized it immediately.

“Smooth Criminal?” Bard asked, grinning.

“Yup, dedicated to the velociraptor.” Thranduil grinned back.

They played a few more songs together, and Bard was glad to see that, after talking about his father, Thranduil had been able to go back to normal and continue having fun. Thranduil played a song called Nocturne by Chopin, which Bard was more than impressed by, and Bard played Sad But True by Metallic. Thranduil joined in, even though he didn’t know the song. Bard was left even more impressed, seeing that Thranduil could play by ear.

Once they finished the song, Thranduil set his violin down and looked at Bard as if he had something important to say.

“I, um, have some news.” Thranduil said, smiling.

“What news?” Bard asked, perking up. He set down the guitar before giving Thranduil a nod to continue.

“I’m moving.”

Bard’s heart started to race. Moving? Thranduil was going to move? Bard’s face probably gave away his worry because before he could even say anything, Thranduil spoke again.

“No, I’m not moving away. Just to a new house, silly.”

“Oh,” Bard sighed, relieved. “I thought you meant you were leaving.”

“No, I’m not leaving. Don’t worry.” Thranduil was still smiling. Bard stared; he couldn’t help himself. Thranduil had a perfect smile.

“Where are you moving and why? This is a nice house.” Bard said plainly.

“I just don’t want to be in such a contaminated place anymore. Too much shit has happened here. I want a new place where I can make better memories.”

“Ah, I understand that. Did you find a place yet?” Of course it made sense why Thranduil wanted to move. He needed a fresh start, somewhere where bad things hadn’t happened.

“I did. I’m going to see it on Monday and if I like it then I’ll make an offer.”

“Another mansion?” Bard chuckled, absently wondering just how much money Thranduil really had. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“I guess,” Thranduil shrugged. “I can show you pictures later. What time is it anyway?”

Shit, they’d been so consumed in the music that Bard hadn’t even thought about how late it might be. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and lit up the screen. “Ten-twenty.”

Thranduil grunted. “It’s getting late.”

“I wish we had more time together,” Bard pouted. He didn’t want to leave Thranduil. He wished there was some way he could spend the night, but he knew that wasn’t possible. He had to get home to the children and he needed a good night’s rest as tomorrow he had to go do the groceries bright and early and finally get his Christmas shopping done. It would be a hectic day.

“I know. This was so much fun.” Thranduil eased the violin from under his chin, twisting his neck back and forth before putting the instrument back in its case.

“It was. I had a really good time with you.”

“So did I. You know what would make it even better?”

“What?”

“If we made out for at least five minutes before you have to go,” Thranduil smirked.

Bard bit his bottom lip as he set the guitar in its stand and turned to face Thranduil. “I want to kiss you so bad,” he confessed, reaching out to take Thranduil’s hands in his. He pulled one of Thranduil’s hands up to his lips and pressed a kiss on Thranduil’s knuckles.

“Kiss me, then.”

That was all the encouragement Bard needed.

After quickly grabbing the bags of art supplies and canvases, they ended up back upstairs, making out against the front door. Thranduil had Bard pinned to the door, kissing his neck and snaking his hands into Bard’s hair.

God, it felt so good to be desired by another person. Bard could hardly believe it.

“You’re delicious,” Thranduil purred in his ear. “And I’m very hungry.”

“I’m starving,” Bard mumbled into Thranduil’s hair.

“You’ve been deprived for a long time.”

“I have, and I think you have, too.”

“You’re right. But we need to be good.”

“Yes,” Bard said, as he captured Thranduil’s face between his hands and kissed him feverishly. He wanted so much more, but Thranduil was right, they needed to be good. Bard tried to think about something else.

When they finally stopped kissing, Thranduil kept his arms around Bard, rocking him gently. They held each other for a few minutes before it was time for Bard to go. He really didn’t want to go. He wanted to hold Thranduil all night, tell him how amazing he was, how much he meant to Bard, how beautiful his eyes were… But all that would have to wait until another time.

“Thank you for the wonderful night, doll. This was the best birthday I had in a long time.”

“You’re welcome. I had a lot of fun, too.” Thranduil kissed him again and stroked his hair with a feather-light touch. The sensation gave him goosebumps. It was so sweet and so tender. Never before had anyone touched him with such care.

It was at that moment that Bard knew he was in love with Thranduil. He knew it deep within the core of him and he wanted to say it aloud. But he didn’t. He kept it to himself, the feeling making him light headed. He smiled, kissed Thranduil again and let Thranduil help him into his coat.

“I wish we had more time together,” Bard said, slipping on his boots.

“I know, so do I. But we’ll see each other on Sunday when we go to the tree farm.”

“Yes, that we will. What time did you want to go?”

“Whatever time is best for you.” Thranduil said.

“Say eleven?”

“That works. Then we could maybe grab lunch or something, or come back here with the little ones and make something. Does Tilda like decorating the tree?”

“She loves it,” Bard smiled. “And lunch sounds good. We’ll figure it out tomorrow then. I’ll call you.”

“Okay, sounds good. Oh, and happy birthday, lover.” Thranduil pressed a soft kiss to Bard’s lips.

“Thanks, doll.”

With that, Bard let Thranduil help him take the presents for Bain out to the car, and he gave Thranduil one more kiss before saying goodnight. Thranduil trotted back up to the front door, waving and blowing kisses. Bard blew a kiss back and got into his car. He didn’t want to go home, but at least he would see Thranduil again on Sunday.

***

 

Thranduil was upstairs in bed when it dawned on him. He forgot all about Bard’s birthday cake. And...he forgot about the lingerie. How could he forget to wear the damned lingerie?! He smiled to himself as he opened his texts and typed a message to Bard.

[To: Bard] 12:01am – I’m an idiot and we forgot to eat your cake AND I forgot to give you your present lol

Would Bard even be up still? Probably not, seeing as it was pretty late now. Thranduil thought about how the evening would have played out if he would have posed in the lingerie for Bard. And thinking about it now, he was actually glad that he hadn’t worn it. They got to have a fun night together without anything sexual getting in the way of them getting to know each other. They were building a strong rapport, which meant so much more to Thranduil than sexual activities. Of course he wanted Bard, and he believed Bard wanted him as well. But it was better to take things slow – something he wasn’t exactly used to doing in previous relationships. And maybe that’s why most of those relationships had failed. Thranduil wanted a lover who could also be his best friend, someone who he enjoyed being around, someone who he had fun with and could be himself with. After tonight, he could see Bard as that person more than he had before. They got to share their interests, encourage each other with their hobbies, and try new things together. It was fun to see Bard paint, and it was even more rewarding to help motivate Bard to start taking photographs again.

Thranduil’s phone chimed beside him, drawing him from his musing.

[From: Bard] 12:04am – Silly thran. I told you I didn’t need a present

[To: Bard] 12:04am – it’s not a material item. Well, actually, it is material…Remember what I told you before about lace?

[From: Bard] 12:05am – damn you, you bastard! Now I want to know what it is

[To: Bard] 12:05am – me in lace, for you to unwrap

[From: Bard] 12:06am – remember what you said about the general tso chicken being hot

[To: Bard] 12:06 am – what about it?

[From: Bard] 12:06 am – well I’m feeling a bit hot right now ;)

[To: Bard] 12:07am – are you? Maybe you should do something about it

[From: Bard] 12:07am – like what?

[To: Bard] 12:07am – oh, you know…

[From: Bard] 12:08am – I do know. But you’ll just have to use your imagination

[To: Bard] 12:08am – I have an overactive imagination. It’s a blessing and a curse

[From: Bard] 12:09am – lol mine is a bit overactive right now too

[To: Bard] 12:09am – lol good, but I hope you get some sleep! You have to wake up early tomorrow

[From: Bard] 12:10am – I know ugh I guess I’ll go to sleep now, doll. thanks again for the best birthday ever <3

[To: Bard] 12:10am – you’re welcome <3 have a good sleep and I’ll talk to you soon xoxo

[From: Bard] 12:10am – night <3<3


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little something before the tree farm.  
> It's not as long as normal chapters, so I apologize! Hope you enjoy <3

It was five minutes to eleven when Bard arrived home.

The warmth of Thranduil’s embrace lingered, tugging at his heart, leaving a permanent grin upon his face. Bard loved spending time with Thranduil. So it didn’t come to him as a surprise that he’d enjoyed himself so much, but what did come to him as a surprise was just how easy he had been able to open up and be himself around Thranduil. He was allowed to indulge in his hobbies, and he hadn’t been scolded for it. He’d been encouraged! Knowing that Thranduil supported his interests only made his feelings for Thranduil even stronger.

And it seemed Thranduil’s generosity knew no bounds. The art supplies that he’d gifted to Bain were proof of just how caring he was. Bard could’ve taken it as an act of charity, something he would have normally been slightly offended by, but Thranduil never made him feel that way. Thranduil made him feel as if he was worthy of such a gift, that Bain was worthy, despite Thranduil never having met him. That spoke to Bard more than words could. It unveiled another facet of Thranduil’s character that drew Bard to him and helped solidify their bond.

Now it was time to take said art supplies in to the house and see what Bain’s reaction would be.

Bard slid out of the car, retrieved the two large bags and canvases from the trunk and somehow managed to carry everything up to the front door in only one trip. The door opened for him before he had a chance to fumble for his house key. He was greeted by Sigrid’s warm smile.

“Hey, Da. You’re home early. What’s all this stuff? Canvases?”

“Hey, honey. This stuff is for Bain. Help me out here, will you?”

Sigrid took the two bags as Bard entered the house and set the canvases in the entrance. He stepped out of his boots and slung his coat over the arm of the sofa, too excited to give Bain his gifts to worry about hanging his coat up in the closet. It’s not like Madison was around anymore to chastise him for not knowing what a hanger was.

“Where’d you get all this?” Sigrid asked, peering into the bags. “Holy shit, Da! Look at all this paint!”

“Uh, Thran gave it to me for Bain to use.”

“Wow, that’s really nice of him. Did he go out and buy it just for Bain?”

“I don’t think so; he didn’t even know Bain liked to paint. I only told him about that tonight, and then he gave me all this. So I reckon he just had it lying around.”

“God, Bain is going to be so excited.”

“Where is he anyway?” Bard asked, going from the living room to the kitchen, then heading for the stairs. “In his room?”

“No, I think he’s in the basement painting, of all things.” Sigrid chuckled.

So Bard went down the first few steps, calling out for his son to come up. Bain made a muffled noise and within a few seconds heavy footfalls sounded up the wooden stairs.

“Hey, Da. What’s up? Bain asked, half panting from running upstairs so quickly. His hands were covered with a multitude of paint splotches, in a diverse spectrum of colour. It reminded Bard of how Thranduil had painted for him earlier; so delicate, so precise, yet he still managed to dirty his hands.

“Hey, kiddo. I’ve got something for you, if you can spare a few minutes.”

“Yeah, of course. I was just finishing up,” Bain said, rubbing at the dried paint on his fingers. “You have something for me?”

“Yup, come right this way.” Bard led him to the entrance where the art supplies awaited.

“What did you—” Bain began but fell silent when he took in the sight before him, his mouth opening into the shape of an ‘o’. “Canvases?!” His voice rang, higher in pitch than usual. Bard smiled. “And what’s this?” Bain approached the bags, opening them up gingerly to take a look inside. He whipped his head around at Bard and a huge grin replaced his initial expression of shock. “Oh my god, Da! You got me canvases and paint and brushes and… oh my god! Thank you, Da!”

Bard stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall, a contagious smile on his face. Bain barreled into him, nearly knocking him over with the force of his hug. “It’s not from me. You have Thran to thank for all this stuff,” Bard said, patting Bain on the back.

“What? Really?” Bain’s expression went back to shock. “No way! He bought all this for me? He doesn’t even know me. Wow!”

“That’s what I thought.”

“How’d he know I like to paint?”

“I told him. He paints too, you know. He’s an artist, a very talented and successful artist, at that.”

“Really? That’s so cool,” Bain exclaimed, digging through the bags, but finally giving up and emptying everything onto the floor.

“Yes, it’s very cool,” Bard agreed. “Don’t make a mess on the floor though. You can take everything down to the basement and have at.”

“Look at all these fucking colours! This is the good quality shit, too.” Bain’s enthusiasm was so endearing that Bard didn’t have the heart to scold him for swearing. Let the boy enjoy himself. Maybe this would be what he and Thranduil could bond over, something to help them get to know each other when the time came.

 

Once the children had gone to bed, Bard grabbed a shower. He didn’t linger under the water as long as he wanted to, but he savored the warmth upon his skin nonetheless. It was late and he really needed to get to bed. For the first time in his life, he neglected to put on underwear or sleep pants and opted instead to sleep in the nude. God, was Thranduil really influencing him this much, or was it just hot in his room tonight? Either way, the cool sensation of the sheets on his bare body felt good.

And then he got a message from Thranduil. They hadn’t texted very long, but it was enough to send Bard’s mind into overdrive…which appeared to be what Thranduil had wanted, the bastard. Bard knew exactly what Thranduil was doing, his motives, why he said the things he did. He’d wanted to get Bard worked up, and he barely had to reveal anything to do so. Bard really was doing his best to resist any and all carnal urges, but it proved extremely difficult after Thranduil had shared a little tidbit of information about his lacy lingerie. Apparently, it was meant to be Bard’s birthday present and Bard was meant to unwrap Thranduil. The visuals that presented Bard with were mouthwatering. It was as if Bard had been trapped in a desert drought and there was Thranduil, a pool of water, just waiting to quench Bard’s thirst.

He lay in bed, fingers gripping his thighs tightly. He ran his hands up his chest, grazing over his nipples, imagining it was Thranduil who lavished him with such attention. Those beautiful, elegant hands were nothing short of magical, able to coax and tease Bard into a state of pure bliss, contentment, euphoria. It was like nothing Bard had ever experienced and he couldn’t help but want it all. He wanted Thranduil in his bed, fingers splayed over his chest, caressing him with that sensual touch, slowly bringing him to climax. His eyes fluttered shut and his traced his hands lower to his groin. The image of Thranduil was buzzing in his head, flooding his senses and he could barely contain himself.

He thought about taking himself in hand, but he swallowed hard and talked himself out of it. He wouldn’t be doing the act justice; the grip and tug of his own hand could never hold a candle to the way he knew Thranduil’s hand felt. So, Bard willed himself to sleep. The sooner he dozed off, the sooner the morning would come and the sooner Christmas shopping would be over.

***

 

“So, where are we going?” Hal asked, as he got into the driver’s seat of his blingy white Audi R8. Thranduil sat in the passenger’s seat, twisting around to make sure Legolas got his seat belt on properly.

“That camera store at the Town Centre, and then the vintage shop on Lakeshore.” Thranduil replied, buckling his own seat belt.

“We have to buy a Christmas present for Bard!” Legolas said.

“Ah,” Hal thrummed, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And what are we getting for him?”

“A bag for his camera. He keeps it in an old lunch bag right now, so I thought he needed something better than that.”

“Oh, good! So you’re not going to go all out and buy him a camera?”

“No, that’s pushing it.”

“And then we can go look at tacky stuff at that vintage store that Ada likes so much!”

“And,” Hal said, dragging out the word, “then you’re going to give me a full update.” He gazed in Thranduil’s direction and wiggled his eyebrows.

Thranduil rolled his eyes. “You’re like an old computer constantly checking for updates.”

Hal barked out a laugh. “I’m as persistent, yes.”

With that, Hal turned up the music and bobbed his head along to the beat as he drove to the camera store. Thranduil was at the receiving end of a few smacks to the arm, Hal clearly trying to get him to move to the music as well. He felt good today, so it didn’t take much to persuade him to let loose and make a fool of himself. Thranduil even sang along, flailing his hands and swaying side to side, much to his son’s amusement.

They’d laughed the entire drive to Town Centre and when Hal found a parking space Thranduil was a bit disappointed that their dance-party-in-the-car had come to an end. The three of them headed into the camera store, and Thranduil was pleased that it wasn’t overly busy. There were a few patrons looking around, some up at the glass cabinets eyeing expensive digital cameras, others perusing the walls of picture frames and photo albums.

Immediately, Thranduil headed to the section for the camera bags, holding tightly to Legolas’s hand. When Hal went in a different direction, Legolas yanked his hand free from Thranduil’s and went to follow Hal. Thranduil just shrugged and began looking at the bags. There weren’t too many options to choose from, but that was expected. How many different designs were really needed? Not many, as they all served the same purpose. A tug in Thranduil’s chest told him that his should buy Bard a nice lens for his camera. But, no! That wasn’t why he was here. He needed to choose a bag. He needed to be practical.

Since Bard’s camera was relatively large, the options were cut in half. Thranduil found four bags that were big enough for Bard’s camera. He opened each one to look at the inside, examined them for sturdiness, and slung them over his shoulder to see which one felt right. One bag was larger than the others due to two separate compartments inside to hold lenses. Thranduil didn’t know if Bard had more than one lens, but he thought it was a good idea anyway. Bard would get more lenses eventually. So Thranduil took the future into consideration when making his choice. He made sure the bag had no defects and when he was satisfied, he went to find Hal and Legolas with the bag over his shoulder.

“Are you ready?” Thranduil asked. Hal was crouched down, skimming through a collection of what appeared to be either photo albums or scrapbooks, while Legolas stood a foot away looking at picture frames.

“You got it?” Hal craned his head, looking up at Thranduil. “Oh, you got it! That was fast.”

“I’m nothing if not speedy. What’re you looking at?”

“These scrapbooks are cute. You should get one and document your relationship with Bard!” Hal stood up with a silver scrapbook, flipping through the empty pages.

“That’s so sappy, Hal.”

“It’s sweet! If you don’t buy it, I will, and then I’ll give it to you for Christmas and you’ll have to use it.”

Thranduil took the scrapbook from Hal and looked at it with narrow eyes. It was sweet, as Hal put it, to make a scrapbook of his memories with Bard. Or he could use it to house his sketches of Bard, and Bard’s photos of him. That was a better idea.

“Okay, I’ll get it.” Thranduil tucked it under his arm, walking leisurely towards his son.

“My, you’re easy today.”

“I’m easy every day,” Thranduil joked, snorting.

“Not when it comes to divulging details,” Hal whispered, walking beside him.

“I’m just testing your patience. Is it wearing thin?”

“As thin as toilet paper in a puddle.”

“We’ll just have to work on that, then.” Thranduil grinned. “Come on, leaf, we’re all set.” He brushed a hand over Legolas’s hair and corralled him along to the cash.

But as they were waiting in line, Thranduil spotted something out of the corner of his eye that he could not refuse – a modernized Polaroid camera. He shuffled out of line, still holding his son’s hand, drifting slowly towards the glass cabinet which contained the camera. It was big – oversized – but it had a certain nostalgic charm that intrigued Thranduil. Polaroids would look nice in the scrapbook. He was confident that Bard could take some amazing shots…but he couldn’t buy Bard a two-hundred dollar Polaroid camera. On the other hand… He could always buy it for himself and let Bard use it.

“What now?” Hal asked, approaching from behind. “Wandering off like a zombie.”

“Braaaains,” Legolas groaned.

“I like this Polaroid camera,” Thranduil said, crowding close to the cabinet so he could see it better.

“For Bard? I thought you weren’t –”

“For me,” Thranduil cut Hal off. It could be a present for both him and Bard to share, just like the scrapbook… And maybe he’d finally get to pose in lingerie for Bard and they could fill the scrapbook with naughty things...

***

 

Bard left for the grocery store before the children even woke up. It was quarter to eight when he arrived. He was glad to be out early, pleased that he beat the weekend crowds. He had the children’s list in his pocket, so he snared a cart and began piling it full. He added the essentials first, and then threw in a few extras – cookies, chocolate milk, Christmas themed cupcakes. He made doubly sure he’d picked up everything the children needed and proceeded to the check-out. Seeing each item ring up on the cash register, the total going up, up, up, made him a little queasy. Why were groceries so damned expensive? Why did it cost so much just to live? Bard pulled out his credit card and tried to ignore the number on the screen. If the price of groceries so easily put him off, he could only imagine how he’d feel after completing the Christmas shopping. He’d likely be doubled over in pain. But it needed to be done, for his kids’ sake. This was all for them.

He dropped off the groceries at home, quickly put them away, and headed back out to the mall. The children were all still asleep, but he sent Sigrid a short text message to let her know where he was and to make sure she took care of things until he returned.

At nine-fifteen in the morning, the mall was already a zoo.

_Good job at waiting until the last minute, idiot._

He bustled around the stores, bumping into people quite frequently. His resolve was at an all time low, but somehow he managed to pick up everything he came for. Sigrid’s boots and a few cosmetic items, Bain’s video games, and Tilda’s toys. He even found the hair chalk Tilda wanted so badly, and not only one colour, but a whole pack with all the colours of the rainbow. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction when he gave it to her today. He stopped at the department store for socks. Everyone got socks for Christmas; it was the only time new socks were purchased throughout the year, so Bard stocked up. He was thankful he didn’t have to buy any art supplies for Bain; now he’d have a little extra money to spend on something else. Before heading to the thrift store, Bard perused the chocolate shop and picked up a small box of assorted chocolates for each of the children.

On the way to the thrift store, he pondered what he should get for Thranduil, but came up with nothing. Nothing would ever be good enough. What could he get Thranduil that would be special, that Thranduil couldn’t just go out and buy for himself? Bard entertained the idea of buying him lingerie, not only because he knew Thranduil liked such things, but because Bard himself wanted to see his beautiful boyfriend spread out on the bed in garments of silk and lace. He snickered to himself as he found a parking spot at the thrift store. He didn’t have the courage to go into the kinds of stores that sold lingerie anyway, so he scratched that idea. And apparently, according to Thranduil’s late-night texts, he’d already purchased lingerie that he’d meant to wear for Bard’s birthday. The images that conjured up in Bard’s head made him dizzy with want, but he knew he had to be good and wait. Thranduil didn’t deserve such animalistic tendencies from a lover, he deserved patience. But that didn’t stop Bard from imagining the sight of his boyfriend in skimpy underwear, posing like a seductress for the camera. He wondered when he’d get to see his ‘birthday present’ from Thranduil, or if it was all just teasing.

The thrift store smelled awful. Not even a full bottle of febreze would take away the stale scent in the air, but it didn’t bother Bard too much. Sweat, grime, grease – all the smells of a hard day’s work – he was used to it, so he took his time looking around.

He found a few fairly new articles of clothing, things that didn’t look like they’d even been worn before. They were items that would normally cost at least triple the price he’d have to pay for them here, so he took that as a win. He found a few ornaments for the tree that he thought Tilda would like, and a pair of shoes for Tilda as well. There were two nice pairs of jeans that would be perfect for Bain, so he snagged those, too. And a purse for Sigrid.

As he was aimlessly scanning the aisles, he came across jewelry on a spin-rack. And that’s when he saw it.

The perfect gift for Thranduil.

***

 

Three-hundred and fifty dollars later and Thranduil was satisfied with his purchases at the camera store, but he didn’t want to only get Bard a boring old camera bag for Christmas. He needed to find something else, too. He didn’t expect to find anything here at the vintage shop, but he still liked looking nonetheless.

“This store smells like old people,” Legolas griped, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Yeah, I know it stinks, leaf. Just hold your nose,” Thranduil said, digging through a rack of clothes.

“This stuff is ancient!”

“Old as the hills,” Hal commented, looking skeptically at a weathered fur vest, wrinkling his nose at the aroma. “Go look around, Legs, Ada might take a while in here.”

“I like to be thorough.”

Hal rolled his eyes and Legolas ran off to look at some hats on a rack. Thranduil wasn’t worried about Legolas going too far since the store was relatively small. So, he let his son look around while he did the same. Hal stayed within talking range and made outrageous comments every now and then.

“This shirt looks like something Kramer would wear; it’s atrocious! Oh! And here’s Jerry’s puffy shirt!” Hal cackled at his Seinfeld-related finds, holding up the puffy shirt for Thranduil to see.

“You’d look fabulous in that, Hal.”

“No one could look fabulous in such a revolting thing!”

“You should get it for Halloween. You could be a pirate… or just be Jerry from that episode,” Thranduil grinned, focusing his attention once again at the racks of clothing in front of him.

“You’d have to be George.”

“I’m not short, fat or bald,” Thranduil quipped, “but I do hate society and would love to drape myself in velvet if it were socially acceptable.”

“There you go.”

“Oh, look!” Thranduil held up a leather jacket.

“Or you could be a biker,” Hal shrugged.

“No, not for me. For Bard. He’d look good in this,” Thranduil said, examining the inside of the jacket. “It’s a little worn on the inside, but look at it, it’s perfect!”

Hal approached and touched the jacket, his nose wrinkling once again. “It smells horrid!” He threw a hand up over his nose and backed away.

“I can air it out, and maybe replace the lining.”

“Yeah, it’s falling apart. Gross. It’s a breeding ground for bacteria!”

“Don’t be such a sourpuss. Bard would look so hot wearing this on his motorcycle.”

Hal snorted. “You and your leather kink.”

“Sue me. I need to get him back on his bike. He’s been ignoring his own wants and desires for too long.”

Legolas ran over to them, a big, furry hat with bunny ears upon his head. He swung his head around, the ears flipping in all directions as he giggled. In his hands, he held another hat with grey fur and what looked like wolf ears.

“Leaf!” Thranduil exclaimed, smiling at how cute his son looked. “What an adorable hat you’ve found!”

“Can I have it?”

“If you want it.”

“What a cute little bunny, you make, Legs!” Hal chuckled. Legolas handed the wolf hat to Hal, who promptly shoved it onto Thranduil’s head.

“Hey!”

“And Thran, what a lovely wolf you make!”

Thranduil groaned, pulled the hat off and shook out his hair.

“I’ll be the bunny and Ada can be the wolf!”

“You better watch out, little leaf, or the wolf will catch you!” Thranduil made a move to chase Legolas, and Legolas ran off, hiding between racks of clothing. Thranduil laughed and put the hat back on his head, then turned to Hal. “How do I look?”

“Like a complete idiot, but it suits you.”

“Thanks, Hal. Just the look I was going for.”

“You have to get it, for Legolas.”

So, Thranduil ended up getting two hats that he hadn’t expected to purchase, the leather jacket for Bard and another silver disco shirt that Legolas found and said it reminded him of the ‘Saturday night’ movie that Hal liked so much.

Another hundred and fifty dollars later and they were headed back home.

***

 

It was just after noon when Bard arrived home. He promptly made his way into the garage to store all the presents so the kids wouldn’t go snooping and then went inside to give Tilda her hair chalk. She radiated excitement, so much so that Bard had to help her put it in her hair right away. She just couldn’t wait.

Sigrid was in the kitchen working on Bard’s birthday cake. She’d repeatedly told Bard to stay out of the kitchen so the cake would be a surprise. So, Bard did Tilda’s hair in the living room. Tilda sat on his lap, holding up sections of her hair. Bard meticulously rubbed chalk into the front strands of her hair, so that the colours would frame her face. She wanted red and green for Christmas, so Bard added both colours with precision. Before too long, the process was complete and Tilda was smiling in front of the mirror, unable to stop gaping at her hair. She fluffed it up, flipped it, ran her fingers through it, giggling at her reflection.

“It looks so good, Da! Thank you!” Tilda said, giving Bard a big hug.

“You’re welcome, honeybee! You look beautiful, very festive.”

“I look like a work of art!”

“You do,” Bard grinned. “Speaking of art, is Bain downstairs painting still?”

Sigrid appeared from the kitchen doorway wearing an old apron.

“Yeah, he’s still painting, using all that new stuff,” Sigrid smiled, before bending down in front of Tilda to compliment her sister’s hair.

“Are you talking about me?” Bain asked, popping into the room, his hair pushed back with one of Sigrid’s headbands. “The walls are thin, I can hear you.”

“Hey, kiddo. I was just asking if you were painting,” Bard explained.

“Yeah! I just finished my best work to date!”

Bard’s lips curled up into a grin. “So you like your new art supplies, then?”

“Love them! You’ll have to thank Thran for me, since Sig and I aren’t allowed to meet him on Sunday with Tilda.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know how grateful you are.”

“I’ve never had such good quality stuff. I think my work is improving,” Bain mused, scratching his chin.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a blink. Bard tidied up the house, making sure to stay out of the kitchen. Bain and Tilda ended up in there as well, helping Sigrid with Bard’s birthday meal. There were a lot of chores that needed to be done so it wasn’t difficult to keep busy. It was nearing three o’clock when Bard finished up the laundry and put the clean clothes away. He went searching in the basement for the stash of Christmas wrapping paper and once he found it, he went out into the garage to wrap presents. Tilda caught on to what he was up to, and tried to follow him into the garage, but Sigrid managed to lure her back to the kitchen by giving her the job of _Official Taste Tester_.

Once all the children’s presents were wrapped, Bard carefully placed Thranduil’s gift into a small wooden box. He cut a small square out of a sheet of silver wrapping paper and wrapped Thranduil’s gift with deft fingers. He tried to be as delicate and gentle as possible; he wanted it to look perfect. Then, he added a ribbon, curling it with a pair of scissors and added a red bow.

After over an hour of gift wrapping, Bard was done.

And it smelled as though supper was done, as well.

***

 

“You didn’t wear it!” The sound of Hal’s voice was so loud, so shrill; it startled Thranduil into almost dropping the bowl of chocolate ganache that he was stirring. “I can tell by the way you’re avoiding the topic, Thran! You didn’t wear the lingerie. Did you? C’mon you can tell Uncle Hal.”

“Shhh, Hal. It’s hard to concentrate on the ganache when you’re running your mouth.”

“Oh, pish posh. I can stir the ganache and run my mouth at the same time. It’s a skill that takes time to fully develop. Here,” he gestured for Thranduil to pass him the bowl, “let me do it.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes and handed over the bowl and spoon. “Go for it. Doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you anything.”

“Did you?” Hal stirred the ganache, looking up at Thranduil with a stern gaze. “Don’t be shy.”

“No, Hal! I didn’t wear it. I completely forgot, to be honest. We were having so much fun. Bard was showing me his camera and taking photos and then we painted and played music, so no there was no time for lingerie.”

“Good, good. This is excellent news!” Hal donned a conspiratorial grin, setting down the bowl of ganache before peering into the oven.

Thranduil was taken aback. Was it excellent news that he didn’t wear Bard’s birthday present? He figured Hal would be livid and want to hang him with the lingerie for not putting it to use, like he’d said the other day.

“And why is this excellent news?” Thranduil cocked his head.

“Because you had a good time and didn’t even do anything sexual! See, he likes you for more than your body! Once again Uncle Hal is right.” Hal stuck his finger into the bowl and took a taste of the ganache. “Perfect. Delicious.”

“Thanks, I knew it would turn out,” Thranduil grinned, swiping a taste for himself.

“Well, it _is_ my recipe!”

“Yeah, yeah, take all the credit.”

“So, you see, no one got naked and impaled, and you still had a good time. Oh, Thran! I’m so proud of you. And you look so much happier lately. This is a good thing.”

Thranduil’s cheeks felt hot so he looked down, and after a breath, admitted, “He makes me happy.”

“Good! He’s one hell of a dish! I still can’t believe you bought him that leather jacket, though. It stinks!”

“It will look good on him. It’s airing out in the garage right now. And the only thing that stinks here is your attitude, “Thranduil snarked, sticking his tongue out at Hal.

“Oh! Look at you, feeling good enough to give me sass!”

“You deserve more than mere sass; you deserve a good spanking.”

“Oooh!” Hal made a noise somewhere between amused and appalled. “Bring it on, then.”

“You know I’m not a very skilled spanker,” Thranduil said, removing the yule log from the oven when the timer went off. He stuck a little metal cake tester into it to make sure it was ready and then set it on the stove top to cool.

“Always a spankee and never a spanker,” Hal shook his head. Thranduil ignored him and took an already opened bottle of wine from the fridge, only causing Hal to grimace further. “Anyway, enough about your kinks. You’re going to the tree place with Bard and his daughter tomorrow, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Thranduil nodded. He poured a splash of wine into a glass for himself and put the bottle back in the fridge. “Sure you don’t want any?”

“Not at this hour.” Hal’s eye roll had taken on a whole new level.

“You know, I do want to fuck him,” Thranduil announced, unsure why the hell he’d just blurt out such personal information. He was so used to telling Hal everything that it just sort of slipped out…

Hal squealed like a child, abandoning all eye rolls for the moment. “Of course you do! Who wouldn’t?!”

“It’s not wrong that I want that?”

“Hell no. Just don’t rush into anything because you’re a horny fucker. Let it develop naturally, and when it happens, hot damn, it will be even better!”

“I think I may die waiting. Who knows if he even wants me in that way… Maybe he doesn’t…”

“Don’t be silly! He’s just shy. He doesn’t know how to navigate the male body. He’s only ever been with one woman, you said, right? So all you need to do is tease him enough that he’ll have to come right out and say just how much he wants you.”

Thranduil hummed in consideration.

“And, he’s probably scared of offending you or being…forceful,” Hal continued. “I mean, the poor man has needs that have likely never been met! So maybe he figures he’s got to dial it back or something. Or he’s just got some crazy self-control.”

“Like nothing I have ever seen. Most people would’ve tried to fuck me by now, but Bard…”

“…isn’t like most people,” Hal finished, quirking a brow. “Bard has manners. He clearly cares a lot about you and respects you.”

“Yeah… and that does mean more to me than a roll in the hay.”

“Exactly. Just go jerk off or something. You’re way too tense. It’s affecting your baking. Do as Uncle Hal says, always play with yourself before playing in the kitchen. It’s the cardinal rule. If things heat up in the kitchen you’re bound to start a fire, and no one wants that!”

Thranduil snorted. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

Hal laughed and examined the Yule log. It was a Christmas miracle that he didn’t criticize Thranduil’s baking; it took a lot of fucking effort to get that damned log to come out as good as it did.

After icing the log and adding some chocolate leaves that Thranduil had made, the urge to have a cigarette was too strong to ignore, so Thranduil made his way to the closet to put on his coat and boots.

“Are we finished? Where’re you going?”

“I need a smoke.”

“Oh, Thran! You’ve fallen down the rabbit hole again,” Hal tsked, wagging his finger.

“The nicotine helps calm my brain,” Thranduil reasoned, pulling a cigarette from the pack as he opened the front door. “You coming?” He looked back at Hal.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll come stand with you while you medicate yourself.”

They sat on the front step, which was blessedly free of any snow or wetness. Thranduil lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled deeply. Hal covered his nose.

“Oh, speaking of your brain…” Hal ventured, “Have you called about therapy yet?”

“They’re supposed to call me back to give me an appointment. I got a referral from my doctor, so it shouldn’t take too long.” Why did Hal have to bring this up now? For once, Thranduil was in a good mood and he didn’t want to think about serious matters now.

“I hope you actually stick with it this time.”

“I’ll try,” Thranduil said through clenched teeth, not liking Hal’s tone. Even though he knew Hal wasn’t telling him what to do, it still left him feeling uncomfortable, like Hal was fucking patronizing him, like Thranduil was a damned child who couldn’t care for himself.

“You said that last time,” Hal chided.

“Can you not, Hal?”

“What?” Hal looked dumbfounded. “I just think you’ll be happier if you can find a way to deal with your…emotional difficulties in a healthier way.”

“I know, I know.”

“And stop smoking! You know what happens to people who smoke?”

Thranduil shot Hal a look of annoyance. “What? They die?”

“No, worse! Their penis shrinks by a centimeter!”

That made Thranduil laugh. The fact that Hal would think losing a centimeter of penis length was worse than death was rather hilarious.

“I’ll be fine, Hal.” Thranduil waved a hand, taking a long drag of the cigarette to prove his point, completely ignoring Hal’s concerns.

“You’ll lose your stamina. And then you’ll have to take those mojo sex pills to get it up!”

“Impossible! I’ve got enough stamina to share with everyone on the street.”

“As horny as you are, I’m surprised you haven’t slept with everyone on the street. Better not say that to Bard or he’ll think you’re a –”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Thranduil cut Hal off, biting the inside of his cheek. Hal very quickly started to get on his nerves. And now he thought about the things Galion used to call him.

“I know, I’m sorry, Thran. I don’t mean you’re a slut.” Hal said quickly, as if he could sense how Thranduil felt.

“Yeah, whatever,” Thranduil groaned. He stubbed out his cigarette on the edge of the concrete step and flicked it on the driveway.

“You’re just going to litter?”

“Hal, you’re ruining my holiday spirit.”

“I’m sorry! I’ve just got a big old mouth and I don’t mean to be rude or offensive or—”

“It’s fine, just come inside and then we can wrap presents, yeah?”

“Okay,” Hal agreed.

Hal appeared to be in deep thought once they went back into the house as he was a little quieter than usual. Thranduil poured another glass of wine, thinking of how he could get both himself and Hal out of whatever kind of funk they were in. What a fucking curse it was to be so sensitive all the damned time! Thranduil told himself repeatedly not to take people’s words so seriously, especially when he knew there was no malicious intent behind them, but it was hard. He really did need therapy.

“Are you coming over on Christmas Eve?” He finally asked Hal.

“If you want me to…”

“Of course I want you to. It’s our tradition. I, for one, will be wearing my onesie, and so will the leaf.”

Hal cracked a smile. “I am not putting on a onesie, Thran!”

“At least wear the elf hat.”

“You’d have to pay me to put that awful hat on my head. It’ll ruin my hair.”

“I’ll pay you with food,” Thranduil raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of his wine.

“Screw you, you always know how to manipulate me,” Hal chuckled.

They spent the next few hours wrapping presents and hiding them in Thranduil’s walk-in closet so Legolas wouldn’t find them. Hal finally found his way home as Thranduil started making tacos for dinner. He and Legolas ate together, and then watched some TV before Legolas went upstairs to take a shower.

“Don’t forget we’re going to get our tree tomorrow, leaf, so bedtime is soon, okay?”

“Yes, Ada. I can’t wait to get the tree! I hope Tilda likes me.”

“I’m sure she will.”

“Will she help us decorate the tree, too?”

“If you want. Maybe we can invite them back here after for food and hot chocolate.”

“Yes! Hot chocolate with the candy canes!” Legolas cheered.

“I’ll send Bard a text to see if that works for them, okay?”

“Sounds good, Ada. I’m gonna go read a bit before bed.”

“Good boy, I’ll come say goodnight in a bit.”

With that, Legolas headed upstairs, leaving Thranduil alone in the living room. He tidied up the kitchen a bit before letting himself relax. Once he was back on the sofa, he pulled out his phone to send Bard a text message.

[To: Bard] 7:59pm – Hey, love. Hope you’re having a good birthday <3 Would you and Tilda like to come over tomorrow after the tree farm to help decorate the tree? We could do lunch here, too, if you’d like…and L wants hot chocolate

[From: Bard] 8:04pm- Hi pretty doll, birthday is going well, the kids made me some cheesy Italian pasta and chocolate cake. It was delicious. Tree decorating would be great. Lunch, too. Tilda loves hot chocolate, so that’s a yes. How’s your day going?

[To: Bard] 8:06pm- Awww you have such sweet kids. My day has been good – shopping, baking, putting up with Hal…the usual lol. So we’re gonna go around 11 to the farm?

[From: Bard] 8:08pm – yes, 11 is good. You want me to pick you and L up, or do you want to meet there?

[To: Bard] 8:09pm – do you mind picking us up? I hate driving in this awful snow

[From: Bard] 8:10pm – no problem at all. We’ll be there for 11 then

[To: Bard] 8:10pm – thanks, lover. gotta go get L to bed, I’ll talk to you later, ok?

[From: Bard] 8:11pm – yup, I better get Til to bed, too. Ttyl beautiful

[To: Bard] 8:12pm – ttyl sexy <3

 

A few hours after tucking Legolas in to bed, Thranduil made his way to his ensuite bathroom. He’d been so busy the whole day; he just wanted to take a nice hot shower to wash away the day’s efforts.

He slowly stripped off his clothing, letting his fingertips trail delicately over his skin as he removed the offensive garments. It felt good to be naked. He turned the water on in the shower, but before stepping inside, he looked himself over in the mirror. Why was he so turned on? It surely wasn’t because of the sight of himself nude. It couldn’t be.

He imagined Bard with him as he got into the shower and let the water soak his hair. The ache in the pit of his stomach didn’t let up while he washed and conditioned his hair, so as he lathered soap on his body, he took extra care running his hands in soothing motions over his flushed skin. He dragged his fingertips over his hips, around the curve of his ass, digging his nails into his thighs as he washed himself. His cock grew hard, aching to be touched, caressed. He let the water wash away the last of the soap suds, but he remained in the shower, tense and needy.

A guttural sound escaped his lips when he traced his fingers over his nipples, down his chest and finally grasped his cock in his hand. Leaning back against the shower wall, he stroked himself. One hand on his cock, the other massaging his ass, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He flew out of the shower, grabbed a towel and fumbled to get the excess water out of his hair. Then, he headed into his bedroom, rivulets of water running down his body and onto the floor. He stopped in front of the full length mirror, crouched down to his knees and looked at his reflection. His hand found its way back to his cock, and he watched intently as he pumped his hand up and down his hard length. A long moan echoed in the silence of the room, and Thranduil cupped his balls, massaging them eagerly. He wanted to come so badly, he wanted to pretend it was Bard who touched him, who milked his orgasm from him. Such sweet torture. His eyes glazed over and all he could focus on was the rise and fall of his chest, the way his hand teased his own cock, working it until he whimpered and had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying out.

What would it feel like to let Bard fuck him, to feel that thick, muscular cock inside him? How much better would it be than this? Without thinking, Thranduil got up from his knees and opened the drawer of his bedside table. He fished around blindly until he found lube and then went back to the mirror. This time he sat on his ass, leaning back far enough that he could rub his fingers over his tight opening. Fuck, it had been a long time since he’d touched himself like this. But it felt so, so good and he didn’t want to stop. He flicked open the bottle of lube, poured some into his hand and slathered it over his cock, letting it drip down over his balls and onto his hole. The cool sensation made his muscles tighten, but he used his fingers to work himself into a state of relaxation. He spread his legs wide and bit his bottom lip as he eased one finger inside himself. A shaky gasp filled the air, only heightening his arousal as he continued to pump his cock with the other hand.

Slowly, he worked his finger in and out, letting himself grow accustom to the intrusion. He wished he could have more than his own damned finger inside him, he wished it was Bard’s perfect cock fucking him madly. That thought only added fuel to the fire, and Thranduil hastily slipped in another finger, moving them in tandem with the stroking of his cock. God, it was so fucking good, so amazing to be filled this way, to tease himself senseless. He fell onto his back, his eyes fluttering closed as he added the third finger. It wasn’t enough; it would never be enough. He thought to get one of his many dildos from the closet, but that would mean he’d have to move, and he was _so_ close.

He breathed out a string of gasps and moans, picturing Bard’s cock slipping inside him, filling him so completely. He sat up on his knees, pulled out his fingers and clutched the mirror as he watched the movement of his hand. With a few more violent strokes of his cock, he came in thick stripes, painting the mirror with his essence as he fought back the urge to call out Bard’s name. He pressed his forehead against the glass, panting heavily, struggling to catch his breath.

In a fraction of a second, Thranduil stood up, light-headed, and tossed himself down on the bed on his stomach. He reached for his mobile from the bedside table and swiped up for the camera.

He had a devilishly good idea.

He shook out his hair over his shoulders, arched his back slightly and turned the camera on front-facing mode. He held his arm away from his body, enough that half his face, his shoulder and his ass were all in the shot. Then, he gave the camera his best eye-fuck, his lashes lowered and his cheeks flushed. And then, he snapped the picture.

Thranduil opened his messages to Bard and attached the picture, typing _‘when I’m good, I’m very good, but when I’m bad, I’m better. Happy birthday, lover. xxx’_

He smirked, and hit send.

***

 

Bard was lying in bed looking online at recipes for festive hot chocolate on his mobile, when the device buzzed in his hands. He was extremely uncomfortable, lying flat on his back, holding his phone up over his head. How many times had his shifted his position? No matter what, the hand holding his mobile ended up falling asleep, going completely numb.

The little notification popped up at the top of the screen, telling Bard that Thranduil had sent a photo. His heart began to beat a little faster in his chest. Thranduil had never before sent him a picture. What did he want to show Bard? That thought made Bard’s throat tighten, but he closed Safari and opened his messages.

When he saw the picture Thranduil sent, he dropped his phone on his face. With a stunned expression, he scrambled to pick up his phone and get another look at the photo.

Holy fucking shit.

It was Thranduil lying amongst a mass of sheets, his still-damp hair flowing over his shoulder, covering one side of his face. He wore the most erotic expression upon his face, pupils blown out – the black almost swallowing the pale blue of his irises completely, a smug smirk tugging at his pretty mouth. And his ass. Fuck, that perfect ass! Thranduil was naked in his bed, taking seductive pictures for Bard - that was enough to make Bard’s cock harden. Thranduil’s ass was so sensual, so round and plump; Bard longed to touch it. There was a message along with the picture which only helped to heighten Bard’s arousal. _‘When I’m good, I’m very good, but when I’m bad, I’m better’_ Bard’s head spun, imagining just how good Thranduil could be when he was bad.

His breath came in shallow bursts, the urge to jerk off in the forefront of his mind. But he sent a message back to Thranduil first.

[To: Thran] 11:44pm – holy shit. you are beautiful. i’m speechless

[From: Thran] 11:45pm – I’m blushing

[To: Thran] 11:46pm – fuck. You make me want to do things

[From: Thran] 11:46pm – like what?

[To: Thran] 11:46pm – like play with you all night

[From: Thran] 11:47pm – too bad I’m all the way over here. You always have yourself…

[To: Thran] 11:47pm – you mean touch myself?

[From: Thran] 11:48pm – you should. I did

[To: Thran] 11:48pm – mmm really?

[From: Thran] 11:49pm – yeah, right before I took that picture

[To: Thran] 11:50pm – that explains the blown pupils

[From: Thran] 11:50pm – if you were here my pupils wouldn’t be the only thing getting blown ;)

[To: Thran] 11:51pm – omg doll, you’re so bad

[From: Thran] 11:51pm – when I’m bad, I’m better <3

[To: Thran] 11:52pm – you’re such a bastard. I might have to go now lol

[From: Thran] 11:53pm – I’m your bastard ;) so go, take care of yourself lover and I’ll see you tomorrow at 11am

[To: Thran] 11:54pm – can’t wait. Night prettiest doll <3

[From: Thran] 11:54pm – night my sexiest lover <3

Bard couldn’t push the covers off himself fast enough. He kept the photo of Thranduil on his phone screen, propped it against the bulk of sheets and quickly wrapped his hand around his cock, letting out a deep shudder. He stroked himself with a loose fist, slowly at first, almost ashamed of what he was doing, but the pleasure far outweighed his shame and soon enough he pumped his cock viciously, his head tossed back, thinking about that sweet, beautiful doll he was lucky enough to call his. It didn’t take much, all Bard had to do was look at that suggestive photo of Thranduil on his phone, and with half a dozen more strokes, Bard came with a feral grunt.

The sound of his breath echoed in the stillness of his room and eventually his breathing slowed. But before he went back to being clear-headed, Bard put his uncharacteristic confidence to good use. He snared his phone, opened the camera and took the single most brazen photo he’d ever taken in his life.

Who was this person? What happened to modest Bard?

It seemed Thranduil had seduced the boldness right out of him! There was no doubt it had always been there, but for so long it had been dormant, repressed and seemingly lost. But not anymore. Definitely not after taking an artistic cock shot to send to Thranduil. God, Bard had never done anything so reckless, but he surprisingly didn’t shy away from it. With a grin, he attached the image, typed a message, and hit send.

***

 

Thranduil had just turned out the lights and set his alarm when his phone dinged from his bedside table. He rolled over to grab the device, which told him that Bard had just sent him a photo. He instinctively bit his lower lip as he opened his messages.

At first, Thranduil couldn’t make out what he looked at, but the shadows and angles were sensual and beautiful, dotted with what looked like thick cream…

Cream?

Oh, that fucking bastard! Bard had sent him a picture of his cock, well covered in seed. Before Thranduil could curse, he read the caption on the picture. _‘See you and raise you, doll’_

A damned fucking bastard, indeed.

Thranduil grasped his phone tighter, fumbling the keys as he shot back a reply.

[To: Bard] 12:02am – OMFG!!!!!!!!!!! You fucking bastard!

How the hell was he supposed to fall asleep now?

 

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry this took soooo long!
> 
> Thank you to my Weird Sister, EldritchMage for helping me out with the Dreaded Kid Scene™

* * *

 

_Shards of glass, crashing down in a million little pieces._

_Pavement drenched in gasoline._

_Flames licking metal._

_Heat. God, it was so fucking hot._

_The smell of hair burning; skin burning._

_The ruthless whipping of leather upon his back._

_Hands gripping his throat; everything fading to black._

 

Fuck.

Thranduil woke with a start. He clutched his heart so that it didn’t beat out of his chest. God, he’d had another one of those horrible nightmares. They always felt all too real and always plagued his sleep when he least expected it. It felt like being swallowed into a bottomless pit of darkness, being pulled deeper into the abyss of the ocean, with no hope of salvation.

He sat upright in his bed, brushing damp tendrils of hair from his face as he waited for his breath to slow. Eventually it did, so he let himself fall back against his pillows, rasping out a sharp exhale.

He’d barely gotten a wink of sleep last night. He’d spent much of his time tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position. It was a wasted effort, though. The picture from Bard had remained locked in his mind; every time he closed his eyes he could see it. The imprint burned into his retinas. It had awakened a renewed desire in him, stronger than he’d ever felt before.

So, all through the night he’d tossed about, imagining just how sweet it would be when he finally got Bard alone. As much enjoyment as he got from merely spending time with Bard, he knew it would bring him even more enjoyment to give Bard the kind of pleasure he truly deserved. Thranduil wanted so badly to show Bard what it meant to be treasured, worshipped.

Thranduil lay motionless in bed, sweaty and out of sorts. Fucking dreams. They always seemed to make their presence known right when things were going well in his life. Always trying to tear him back down. He had to fight it. He couldn’t let it bring him down. Not today. Today he was taking Legolas to the tree farm with Bard and Tilda. And being in a bad mood just wasn’t acceptable.

The alarm clock read 7:54 a.m. The last time he’d looked at it, it read 7:01 a.m. He’d checked the clock the entire night. The only span of time that he hadn’t been awake to check the clock was between 4 a.m. and 5 a.m. He had set the alarm for eight o’clock; so he shut it off and groggily hauled himself out of his nest of blankets.

The house was quiet; Legolas was not yet awake. Thranduil shuffled into the bathroom, tying his hair into a sleek knot upon his head. He took a quick shower, staying under the hot stream of water only long enough for it to soothe his tense muscles and bring him back to life. Then he brushed his teeth, fixed his hair and got dressed in the most festive shirt he had – an oversized deep red and forest green cable knit sweater, which he paired with his favourite black jeans.

Once he was dressed and the bed was made, he poked his head into his son’s bedroom. It was still early but the sun shone brightly through the window, the rays dancing upon Legolas’ sleeping face. Thranduil’s heart surged when he gazed upon his son. He looked like a quiescent angel, so peaceful, so content. He let Legolas sleep a while longer.

When he got downstairs, Thranduil opened all the blinds to let the early morning light in. If he was lucky, the good weather would hold for the day. He sat in the sunlight as he waited for his tea to brew. The heat from the sun felt nice on his skin and he hoped that the temperature had risen a bit. Despite being from Sweden, Thranduil did not do well in the cold. He became easily irritable and on edge when he was cold. And that was definitely not the kind of mood he wanted to be in today, not when he would be spending time with Bard and his daughter.

Once he’d poured his tea into his favourite mug, he went to check the digital thermometer by the front door. Ah, a few degrees above freezing – that was welcome news! He threw on his coat and boots, and stepped out onto the front porch with his cup of tea in hand. As he took a seat on the step, he reached for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, internally scoffing at what Hal had said about losing a centimeter of penis length. Thranduil breathed out a chuckle and lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply.

For the first time since he’d awoken, he let himself think about the dream - or rather, nightmare - which he’d had early this morning. It was nothing new, dreaming about the car wreck, and subsequently Emilia’s death, but it still left an unwelcome ache in his chest. Christmas had always been Emilia’s favourite time of year. She loved to put up the tree and go all out with decorations.

Thranduil sighed. He only entertained the thought for a few seconds before vaguely wondering how Legolas would do today when he met Bard’s daughter. He hoped they would get along and find friendship in one another. Dating Bard would be easier if their children liked each other and became friends. Thinking about Bard left a different kind of ache in Thranduil’s chest, a feeling that he had to keep reminding himself was, in fact, real. It all felt like a dream that he would too soon wake from, a dream he wanted to grasp with both hands and hold onto forever.

He finished off his cigarette and went to toss the butt on the road, but instead of going into the house, he plopped himself back down on the step and sipped languidly at his cup of tea.

Behind him, the door burst open.

“There you are!” Legolas hollered, drawing Thranduil from his thoughts of Bard.

“Here I am,” Thranduil chimed as he turned around to see his pajama-clad son standing in the doorway, hair a mess.

“Your phone’s been blowing up,” Legolas informed, shivering as he turned to head back inside. Thranduil stood to follow Legolas back into the house.

“Who is it? Did you check?”

“Uncle Hal, who else?!” Legolas snickered. “I didn’t read the messages, though.”

Thranduil fetched his phone once he was out of his coat and boots, opening his messages to find several from Hal.

[From: Hal] 8:41am – giiiiiirl

[From: Hal] 8:41am – youre getting the tree today right? What time?

[From: Hal] 8:42am – I wanna come decorate

[From: Hal] 8:42am – and you know…..

[From: Hal] 8:42am – I want to see that gorgeous boyfriend of yours again ;) ;)

[From: Hal] 8:46am – don’t ignore me, you big old bitch

[From: Hal] 8:46am – I’ll bring treats and I promise I’ll be extra good!

Thranduil rolled his eyes and tapped out a reply.

[To: Hal] 8:49am – Jesus Christ. Calm your ass. You can come over after. I’ll text you when we get back, okay?

[From: Hal] 8:50am – You’re the best trash friend a trash queen could have!

[To: Hal] 8:50am – I know. So don’t skip out on the treats. I’m gonna see if Bard and Tilda want to stay to help decorate. If so, you better BE GOOD. Do not embarrass me

[From: Hal] 8:51am – extra good, like I said :D

[To: Hal] 8:51am – gotta go get breakfast for the leaf now.

With that, Thranduil set his phone down and headed to the kitchen to make scrambled eggs and toast for himself and Legolas. Once they’d eaten, Legolas went back upstairs to get cleaned up and changed into suitable clothing. Thranduil reminded him to dress warm as they would be outside for quite a while. Just because it was sunny did not mean it wasn’t still cold.

While Legolas was upstairs, Thranduil made himself more tea and tidied the kitchen. Since it was already practically spotless, his efforts were short-lived. He quickly moved on to the sitting room to organize boxes of decorations. He needed some semblance of order so it would not be complete mayhem when they got back to the house to decorate. He set out all the ornaments, found both the angel and the star for the top of the tree – he would let the children decide which to use this year – and then he rummaged through boxes of older items to see what else could be of use.

He heard Legolas approach behind him, but didn’t look up from what he was doing.

“I’m ready and we still have like an hour before they arrive!”

“Then we’re well prepared,” Thranduil said, pulling out an old bag of silver tinsel.

“Are you going into frantic cleaning mode?”

“No, I’m organizing the ornaments so they’ll all be ready for us when we get back with the tree.”

“I bet you were frantically cleaning before,” Legolas chuckled.

Thranduil grinned, shaking his head. “What makes you think I was frantically cleaning?”

“Because you’re nervous.”

“Am I?” Thranduil raised both eyebrows as he regarded his son.

“Yeah. You want everything to go well because you like Bard.”

“Is that so?”

“Ada!” Legolas exclaimed. “You’re turning all my statements into questions!”

“Oh, am I?” Thranduil teased, cracking a smile. “I’m sorry Legs, you’re right. I’m evading. Yes, I was frantically cleaning and yes, I like Bard. And I hope everything will go well.”

“It will. He’s not like Galion. I can tell.”

Thranduil’s chest tightened. “Yeah? Do you get a good vibe?”

“I do,” Legolas nodded. “He’s different. For one, he doesn’t scare me. And, I mean, he has kids, so he can’t be a monster. And he was here for you that day that—”

“Yes, he’s been good to me. And you’re right; he’s a very caring and loving father. His daughter is especially excited about meeting you today.”

“I’m excited, too!”

Thranduil shared a genuine smile with his son. He didn’t say it out loud, but he was probably just as excited as Legolas was.

 

***

“Da!” Tilda called, bustling down the stairs to where Bard stood in the kitchen, buttering a piece of toast. “I’m ready!” She announced in a sing-song voice.

“Let Da eat, honeybee. You’ve already had your breakfast, so now I need to have mine.”

“Fuel to cut down the tree!” Tilda took off into the living room, hurling herself into a near-perfect cartwheel.

“Careful, Til. We don’t want you to go through the wall.”

Tilda flashed a grin and chuckled softly. “Silly, Da! I’m not heavy enough to take down the wall! I’m just so excited to go back to the tree farm. I saw online that more of the animals will be there today. Do you think Legolas likes animals?”

Bard finished chewing his mouthful of toast and gave his daughter a warm smile. “That’s something you’ll have to ask him.”

“When are we going? Soon?”

“In about ten minutes. We’re running a little behind today, sweets. I still need to text Thran…” Bard trailed off as he set his plate into the sink and headed off in search of his mobile.

He hadn’t looked at his phone since he’d sent that risqué picture to Thranduil last night. The screen illuminated and Bard smirked at the text message that was awaiting him. Ah, it seemed Thranduil had enjoyed his picture. Last night after he’d sent the image, he worried that he may have crossed the line, so he was glad to see a more than positive reaction from Thranduil.

Instead of responding to Thranduil’s exclamation, Bard sent a simple text saying that he and Tilda would be leaving in a few minutes. While he waited for a reply, he scrolled up through their messages and saved the gorgeous picture Thranduil had sent him. His body flooded with warmth upon seeing such beauty. He stared at the picture with a stupid grin on his face, but within seconds, a reply came through. Thranduil let him know that he could leave at any time and he and Legolas would be ready. So, Bard closed the messages and put his phone in his pocket.

A little jolt of adrenaline coursed through his body. He couldn’t wait to see Thranduil again.

“Okay, Til. Ready when you are!” He put on his coat, wound a scarf around his neck and grabbed extra hats and mittens from the closet. Then he slipped on his boots and helped Tilda into her outerwear. He took out Tilda’s hat and handed it to her, but she shook her head.

“I wanna wear the red earmuffs, Da! So my streaks will show.” She smiled proudly. So, her hat went back into the closet and out came the red earmuffs, which she placed securely over her ears. “And the white scarf with the green reindeer!”

At last they were ready to go.

Bard helped Tilda into the back seat of the truck and fastened her seat belt for her before getting into the driver’s seat and backing out onto the road.

As he drove, Tilda sang along to the Christmas songs that played on the radio at full volume and before they knew it, Bard turned onto Thranduil’s street. Tilda looked out the window, _ooo_ ing and _ahh_ ing at all the houses they drove by.

“Oh my gosh, Da!” Tilda exclaimed. “Is this their house?”

“Yup, honeybee, this is it,” Bard replied as he turned into the driveway.

“It’s huge!”

Bard nodded. “Yes, it’s very big.”

“How many people live here?”

“Just Legolas and his father.” Bard put the car in park and unbuckled his seat belt.

“Wow, what do they need such a big house for if it’s just the two of them?” Tilda asked, unbuckling her seat belt as well.

“I don’t know, honeybee,” Bard answered honestly. “Thran has a lot of money—”

“Do you think they have a bowling alley?! And what about a movie theatre, and maybe a pool…inside the house!”

Bard chuckled. “I don’t know, sweetie, but it’ll give you something to ask Legolas when you get to know him, yeah?”

Tilda nodded, staring at the house with a curious expression on her face. They got out of the truck and Bard rushed behind Tilda as she bounced up the steps and stood in front of the door. Bard went to press the door bell, but Tilda stopped him.

“Can I ring the door bell, Da?”

“Go for it,” Bard encouraged.

Tilda clapped her hands together and then pushed the door bell with her gloved-finger. “Ooh! It sounds like bells! Do you think they have actual bells in the house?” She looked up at Bard, her eyes wide with awe.

He smiled at his daughter’s excitement. “Probably not, honey. It’s just a fancy doorbell.”

 

***

“You’re not gonna wear the Uggs, are you, Ada?” Legolas groaned, giving Thranduil a look of pure exasperation.

“I’m not? I thought they’d look great with my outfit,” Thranduil teased.

Legolas stuck out his tongue and let out a little chuckle. “Please, don’t. They’re so embarrassing!”

“Don’t worry, leaf. I’m just teasing. I’ll wear my good boots today. The Uggs are just for around the house.”

“Thank the gods!” Legolas sighed in relief. He took both the bunny hat and the wolf hat he’d gotten from the vintage shop from the closet and held them up. “Which one should I wear?”

“Do you want to be cute or fierce?”

“I don’t want to be cute!” Legolas scrunched up his nose as if the word had offended him.

“So go with the wolf, then.”

“And,” Legolas continued, pulling the wolf hat upon his head, “You can be the bunny!” He tossed the hat to Thranduil, who caught it in one hand and plunked it on his head with a grin.

“Really, leaf? No Uggs, but the bunny hat is okay? Don’t I look silly?” Thranduil shook his head, causing the dangly bunny ears to wave about.

“Yeah,” Legolas agreed, “Like a little girl. Take it off!”

Thranduil’s grin grew a bit more perverse. “Maybe I’ll keep it on.” He glanced to the door, thinking he heard the sound of a car in the driveway. “C’mon, leaf, get your boots on. We want to be ready.”

Legolas rolled his eyes and plopped down on the floor in front of the closet. He took his time adjusting his socks before shoving his feet into his boots. He did up the laces meticulously, and without looking at Thranduil, he asked, “Do you think I look ridiculous?”

Thranduil thought his son looked adorable, but he wouldn’t dare say it in such a fashion. He made a dismissive sound, somewhere between a snort and a huff. “No, Legs, you don’t look ridiculous. Nowhere near.”

“Okay, good.”

Thranduil scrambled to get his boots on and a moment later the doorbell chimed. Anticipation bubbled up inside of him and he rushed to the door, leaving Legolas to finish tying up his boots.

His heart raced as he swung the door open, and his smile grew when he saw Bard standing there grinning at him.

“Hey, Bard,” he greeted, and when he peered down at the little girl who looked up at him with bright eyes, he added, “and this must be Miss Tilda.”

“Hey, Thran,” Bard said, “it’s good to see you again, and yes, this is Tilda.” He looked at his daughter. “Til, this is Thran.”

Thranduil held his hand out to Tilda. She reached out to shake it, her grip firm and confident as she smiled back at him. “Hi, Mr. Thran.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too. I like your bunny hat!” She giggled, drawing a light chuckle from Bard as well.

Oh, right. Thranduil had almost forgotten that he had the silly bunny hat on his head still. He pulled it off with a sheepish grin. “Oh, thank you. It’s Legolas’s hat. I was just teasing him by pretending I was going to wear it.”

“Well, I think it looks good!” Tilda exclaimed.

“Thank you, darling. And what have you got in your hair? Red and green streaks? They look beautiful.”

“Oh, thanks! Da did them for me.”

Thranduil gazed at Bard, who merely shrugged like it was nothing. But Thranduil was touched by how such a simple act showed just how much of a caring and devoted father Bard was.

“I’m almost ready!” Legolas yelled out. Tilda peered into the house, her intrigue intensifying upon hearing Legolas’s voice.

“This is a really big house,” she said in observation, her curiosity drawing her to take a few steps inside. Thranduil stepped aside and waved Bard into the house behind his daughter. Tilda’s eyes flitted around the room, taking in every little detail.

Just then, Legolas appeared.

He looked up, addressing Bard first. “Hi, Bard. It’s good to see you again. Ada has been stress-cleaning because he’s been so excited to see you!”

“Legolas!” Thranduil gazed down at his feet, blush colouring his cheeks. God, Legolas could be just as bad as Hal sometimes. At least with Legolas, Thranduil found it endearing.

Bard chuckled. “Nice to see you again, too, Legolas.”

Then, Legolas regarded Tilda with a smile. “Hi, I’m Legolas!” He waved animatedly. Thranduil watched the children’s interaction with a fond smile, and noticed that Bard was doing the same.

“Hi! I’m Tilda! Is that a wolf hat?” She asked with wide eyes.

“Yeah, it’s a wolf hat! We got it from the vintage shop.” Legolas said. “Oooh! I like your hair! Red and green for Christmas!”

Tilda practically beamed when Legolas mentioned her streaks. She bounced excitedly and ran her hands over her hair with pride. “Oh, thank you! It’s my new hair chalk! My Da got it for me. I’ve got all the colours of the rainbow, but I wanted to do red and green for today since the tree farm is a Christmas thing…”

“Oh! That’s so cool! I’d do blue and green because those are my favourite colours!”

“Your hair is really long! The colours would show up good in your hair, too, because it’s so light. It’s really easy to do, you just rub it in!”

“I wanna do it,” Legolas looked up at Thranduil with a pleading expression. “Can I, please?”

“It’s not permanent,” Bard said, “it washes right out.”

“I don’t see any harm, then.” Thranduil conceded.

“And then you can do a different colour every day of the week! On Christmas you can do red and green like mine!”

“Yeah!”

Bard smiled and added, “It only takes a couple of swipes, so Tilda’s right about how easy it is.”

“Where did you get it from? We could pick some up on the way home…” Thranduil mused, grinning at the eager look on his son’s face.

“Oh, please! It would look so cool!” Legolas jumped up and down.

“I just got it at the drug store. Didn’t cost very much; it was on sale when I got it.” Bard informed.

“Alright, well we’ll have to get some then, won’t we?” Thranduil looked to Legolas, who had a grin from ear to ear.

“Yay, thanks, Ada.”

“We should probably get going now,” Thranduil said, tossing the bunny hat that he’d been holding all this time onto the entrance table before he grabbed his house key.

“Yeah, Til, you can tell Legolas all about the hair chalk in the truck on the way to the tree farm.”

“Yeah! Okay!”

“And when we get back I can give you a tour of the house,” Legolas said to Tilda as they all made their way outside.

“Oh, yeah, that’d be awesome! Your house is so big. Do you have a bowling alley?”

Legolas chuckled. “A bowling alley? No! But there’s a pool in the backyard!”

“Not in the house?”

“No, no pool in the house.”

Thranduil and Bard helped the children into the back seat of the truck and fastened their seat belts before getting into the front. Thranduil had apparently underestimated his son’s ability to hold conversation, because Legolas and Tilda did not stop talking the entire ride to the tree farm. It made Thranduil feel good that his son was able to open up to another child so easily.

Tilda asked Legolas if he’d ever been to a tree farm, which of course, Legolas hadn’t. He’d only ever been to a farm with animals when he was very young.

“The animal farm smelled horrible!” Legolas laughed. “Will there be animals at the tree farm?”

“There is a petting zoo. They have goats and bunnies and even a pony!”

As the children talked, Thranduil gave Bard a side-glance, smirking his very best smirk.

“I missed you,” he whispered to Bard. A grin tugged at Bard’s lips as he slipped his hand over and rubbed Thranduil’s knee.

“I missed you, too, Thran.” Bard said, his voice low and husky. He smiled and gave Thranduil a wink. Thranduil thought about how amazing it would feel to have that hot, breathy voice whispering against his ear as he held Bard’s body tight to his own.

“Ada?” Legolas drew Thranduil from his less-than-pure thoughts.

Thranduil hummed in response.

“I said, how big do we want the tree?”

“Umm, around ten feet, give or take.”

“That’s big!” Tilda said. “Remember the one year they had a twenty foot tree, Da? That one was really big! I don’t know where it would fit. Way too big for a normal house.”

“Wow, twenty feet tall,” Legolas gasped. “That would never fit in our house. It would have to go in a castle or something. Someplace with tall ceilings.”

“Yes, in a castle, or in a barn!”

Bard grinned and looked into the rearview mirror. “It probably went in a hotel, honeybee.”

At that moment, Thranduil’s phone began to vibrate in his pocket. The only person who would be texting him would be Hal. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, the action not going unnoticed by Bard. Thranduil mouthed the word _‘Hal’_ to Bard, hoping that would give some sort of explanation for why he was looking at his phone.

[From: Hal] 11:11am – make a wish, thrangelina!!!!

[From: Hal] 11:11am – get some !!!!!

A string of eggplant emojis appeared.

[To: Hal] 11:12am – You want me to make a wish? I wish you’d find someone else to annoy

Thranduil sent a bunch of poop emojis.

[From: Hal] 11:12am – BITCH!

Thranduil snickered at his phone and set it on his lap. In the backseat, the children were talking about the big barn that they would pass by on the way to the tree farm. They were both equally excited to see if the cows and horses would be outside grazing in the fields. Thranduil remembered when Legolas was younger and he and Emilia would take long drives out in the country roads, and every time they passed a field of cows, Legolas would perk up in delight. He’d always loved animals of all kinds. It was nice that Tilda seemed to have the same love for animals.

“Do you want to come over to help us decorate the tree once we get it home?” Legolas asked Tilda.

“Really? You want me to help?” She replied, sounding almost shocked by Legolas’s request.

“Yeah, it would be fun! I hear you’re good at decorating!”

“I love doing our tree. If you want me to help, I’d like that a lot! Can we, Da?” Tilda inquired with Bard, who looked over to Thranduil to make sure it was okay.

“That’s up to Thran…”

Thranduil wanted nothing more than to have Bard and Tilda over to help with the decorations. Having the two of them at the house would make it feel more like Christmas-time, make everything feel a little more festive. So, Thranduil nodded and smiled at Bard.

“We’d love to have you both over for the help, right Legs?”

“Yeah!”

“Tilda is especially good at tinsel,” Bard snickered.

“Da! I didn’t decorate the sofa on purpose! It just sort of happened… ” Tilda said in a sheepish tone.

“It looked good, Til. Just made the sofa hard to sit on.”

“It wasn’t messy, though! It looked cool!”

Bard laughed; it was warm and full of love, and the sound made Thranduil’s heart surge. “It did, but we needed to sit on the sofa!” Bard turned to Thranduil to explain. “She put tinsel all over the sofa cushions because she liked how it looked shiny.”

Thranduil chuckled, “I bet it was a great work of art.”

“It was!” Tilda exclaimed.

Then it was Legolas’s turn to laugh. “Ada thinks everything is a ‘great work of art’!”

“Anything can be a great work of art, Legs. Like Tilda’s hair, for example.”

“Da is the artist of my hair. I think he did a good job.” Tilda nodded. “Oh! Legolas, look! We’re about to pass the barn! Do you see? The cows are out!”

While the kids were swept up in their awe over the animals, Bard spoke to Thranduil. “Oh, doll, I completely forgot! Bain wanted me to thank you for the art supplies. He’s very happy and even started using everything already. It means a lot to him, and to me, so thank you again.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad he’s getting use out of it.”

“Apparently he’s created his best work to date with the stuff you gave him,” Bard chuckled. “So, I think it gave his confidence a little boost.”

“Oh, that’s great to hear. Maybe one day soon he’ll actually show you.”

Bard chuckled again. “That’ll be the day.”

Thranduil’s phone continued buzzing, so he opened his messages. It seemed Hal wanted to be helpful and offered to pick up food for everyone once they were all back at the house to decorate. Thranduil couldn’t say no to the offer; he really didn’t want to waste time cooking anything when they got home.

“You guys want to come over for lunch after we get the tree? Hal wants to help decorate and said he could stop for food.” Thranduil announced, drawing cheers from the backseat.

“Can we, Da, can we?”

Bard glanced at Thranduil. “I’ll have to let Sig and Bain know in case they get home early, but yeah, that would be nice.”

“Oh my god! Uncle Hal is obsessed!” Legolas giggled.

“Who’s Uncle Hal?” Tilda asked.

“He’s Ada’s best friend. He’s not really my uncle but I call him that anyway because I’ve known him since I was born. He’s so much fun, and he makes the best cupcakes in the world! Maybe he’ll bring some. Ada, can you ask Uncle Hal if he can bring cupcakes, please?”

“He already said he would, leaf.”

When they got to the tree farm, Tilda and Legolas scrambled to get out of the truck, but not before Bard suggested they check out the petting zoo before picking out a tree. So, the children ran ahead to the store front as Bard and Thranduil lingered in the car. It nearly stopped Thranduil’s heart when Bard leaned over and pressed a kiss on his cheek. A jolt ran up his spine and he turned to kiss Bard on the lips – a proper kiss, worthy of such a sweet, affectionate man. Bard smirked and cupped Thranduil’s face, deepening the kiss. God, it was getting hot in the car. Best make their way into the shop to find the children, lest the truck combust from the heat radiating from both Thranduil’s and Bard’s bodies. Thranduil could just imagine the heat their bodies could create with a little friction added to the equation.

It was too much to think about. Thranduil’s cheeks were probably an embarrassing shade of red, so he quickly ducked out of the passenger’s seat and beckoned for Bard to follow.

They caught up to the children, who were already in the little building just outside the front of the shop, which housed the petting zoo. The children were cooing and clicking their tongues at the pony, trying to get its attention. Upon seeing this, Thranduil smiled at Bard.

But Legolas’s excitement caused the pony to nip in the direction of his outstretched hand. Startled, he gasped and quickly pulled his hand back, holding it tight to his chest. Witnessing this, Thranduil almost freaked out, his heart racing. In an instant, he and Bard rushed to Legolas’s side, but being deathly afraid of horses, Thranduil stayed behind Legolas, rubbing his son’s shoulders in reassurance. Bard, on the other hand, had already crouched down beside Legolas to make sure he was okay and not too frightened.

“Hey, it’s alright, Legs,” Bard began, softly. “You just startled her, that’s all. You just have to learn how to say hello in pony, then you’ll see she’s really very friendly.” Thranduil watched the way Bard interacted with his son, amazed at how well he was handling the situation. His kindness was heartwarming, and it left Thranduil a little stunned. None of Thranduil’s exes had ever treated his son with such regard.

Legolas spoke timidly, eyes peering at Bard. “How do you say hello in pony?”

“Da told me that ponies can sense if you’re nervous, so you have to be very calm,” Tilda explained.

“Yes, Tilda is right,” Bard continued, stooping by the fence. “You have to be very calm and relaxed so she knows you want to be her friend, and then make her a little curious so she’ll want to meet you. And be a tad bit quieter so you don’t startle her.” Bard looked at the pony and lowered his voice when he spoke to her. “Hello, Winnie! You’re looking quite winsome, today. I know you’d like to meet a new friend, yes? Someone to give you a nice scratch?” Holding his hand out to the pony, Bard rubbed her nose, and then glanced back to Legolas with a smile. “See, Legolas? Just like that, nice and calm, voice just above a whisper. I think she’s ready to meet you.”

“Okay, I’ll try again,” Legolas stated, taking a deep breath before addressing Winnie. “Hi, Winnie, my name’s Legolas and I would like to be your friend and maybe pet your nose, if you would let me.”

“Yes, that’s good. She can see you’re calm, so she knows it’s safe.”

“Yeah, ponies are very skittish,” Tilda added, holding her hand out alongside Legolas’s.

Together, the children managed to gain Winnie’s trust and were able to give her a rub on the nose. They looked at each other with bright smiles on their faces, giggling silently. Once the pony knew the children were friendly, they got some kibble and fed her from the palms of their hands. They cackled with laughter when Winnie slopped up the kibble from their hands, wiping off the wetness from her tongue onto their coats.

“Look, she likes us!” Legolas said, looking first to Bard, and then back to Thranduil. “Ada, can I take a picture of her with your phone?”

Thranduil agreed to the request, retrieving his phone, unlocking it and opening the camera.

“Just make sure there’s no flash,” Bard said, “that might scare her.”

“Okay, flash is off. We don’t want to scare you, Winnie. We just want a picture of you!” Legolas pointed the phone and snapped a few pictures, but before he could look at the photos he’d taken, Thranduil took back the phone so he could get a shot of the children with Winnie.

And maybe he was protecting Legolas from seeing something that would scar him for life. Yes, Thranduil had saved the picture Bard had sent him last night. There was no way he was going to let the children aimlessly scroll through his camera roll.

Next, after saying goodbye to Winnie, they saw the goats and the rabbits. Thranduil took more pictures, but Bard managed to steal the phone from him so he could snap a few shots with Thranduil in them. Then, Bard held out the phone at arms length and snapped a picture that had all four of them in it. Thranduil’s ridiculous expression with his tongue stuck out was now forever immortalized.

They took a few more pictures of the animals, and then finally went into the shop to gather the gear they would need to cut down the tree. Thranduil hauled the sled, which they would use to transport the tree; Bard carried the saw and some bungee cord. The kids ran ahead, zigzagging through the rows of trees, kicking up fluffy snow in their haste. Though, it seemed they were in no rush to find a tree. They were enjoying themselves, burning energy. Tilda showed Legolas how to do a proper cartwheel, so they busied themselves with that for a while, as Thranduil and Bard walked slowly behind.

“They’re adorable together,” Thranduil said, smiling. “Seems like they’re getting along quite well.”

Bard’s gaze followed his daughter. His eyes shone with affection and pride, a look Thranduil had not seen before. “Yeah, they’re at the perfect age. Everything is fun for them, and everything they do is cute to us. I hope we got some good pictures of them with the animals.” He deposited the saw and bungee cord onto the sled and offered to pull it for Thranduil.

At the mention of the pictures, Thranduil opened the camera roll on his phone and scrolled through the images. “Yes, we got some great shots. I can send them to you.”

“Yeah, thanks, doll, that’d be great.” Bard looked down at his feet, then glanced at Thranduil with a smirk. “Speaking of pictures… Did you get the picture I sent you last night?”

Immediately, Thranduil’s face got hot. God, Bard really had a knack for making him blush. And of course all that bastard could do was flash those perfect teeth in a smug grin. It made Thranduil weak.

“I, uh,” Thranduil stuttered, trying to pull himself together. “Didn’t you get my reply? Of course I got your picture, you fucking bastard.”

Bard grinned openly. Fucking bastard was proud of himself, and he damned well should be. “Oh, I got it alright. It was pretty vague, though. Couldn’t really tell if you liked the picture or not…”

Now he was just teasing Thranduil.

“Too bad I didn’t think to make a video of my reaction!” Thranduil chuckled and tried to shove Bard, but Bard quickly dodged out of the way, an unrepentant smirk plastered on his face.

“Oh?” Bard merely shrugged, looking as though he was fighting to keep his lips from curving up into a grin. “Is that right?”

“Yes, it is right, you fucker! You would’ve enjoyed it,” Thranduil played along. “And I assume you liked my picture?”

Bard caught his bottom lip between his teeth. “I think my picture proves just how much I liked your picture.”

Thranduil went to shove Bard again, but this time Bard didn’t move out of the way. Strong hands tightened around Thranduil’s arms, pulling him closer, nearly flush against Bard’s chest. Bard glanced over his shoulder to where the children were running around the trees, then gazed back at Thranduil with a coy look. Thranduil smirked back and took it upon himself to press a kiss to Bard’s lips. And just like that a fire ignited in Thranduil’s heart. The kiss wasn’t nearly long enough, but when they parted, Bard cupped Thranduil’s face in his hands and pulled him in for another kiss. Both kisses were chaste and reserved – they were in public, after all, despite no one being around to see them.

“This one!!!” Legolas shouted, breaking the spell Bard had cast upon Thranduil. “We found it, Ada! Bard!”

“Da! Thran! We found the tree!” Tilda yelled, waving at them and pointing to the tree.

Bard turned away from Thranduil to call out to the children. “Yes, be right there!”

Thranduil walked in step with Bard, trotting through the rows of trees, making their way to the children. Tilda and Legolas stood triumphantly in front of the tree they’d picked out, proud smiles on their rosy faces.

Thranduil made an _ooo_ ing sound when he examined the tree. It looked to be the perfect height – Bard estimated it was about ten feet – and had an overall nice shape, bushy and full. It would look wonderful in the house, lit and decorated. Bard inspected the tree for gaps in the branches, and then fetched the saw.

“Are you going to chop it down or do you want me to show off my skills?” Thranduil said, elbowing Bard.

Legolas snorted out a laugh.

Bard hummed and glanced sideways at Thranduil. “I’ll chop down your tree anytime you want, Thran.”

Now it was Thranduil’s turn to snort. “You’re so cheesy.”

Bard quirked a brow, his gaze flickering down to Thranduil’s crotch. Thranduil’s face reddened, but he didn’t look away. He winked, letting his eyes trail down to Bard’s crotch. Bard shook his head slightly, then turned his attention to the children.

“Okay, last call, you two. Is this the best tree on the whole, entire lot?”

“Yes!”

“Can’t hear you…”

“YES!!!” They shouted, jumping up and down.

“That’s better,” Bard chuckled.

“Demonstrate your tree-cutting skills for me then, lumberjack.” Thranduil teased, a wide grin on his face. This he would enjoy.

“I’ll go on this side,” Tilda said, “and Legolas, you go on that side. We’ll move the branches out of the way, and Thran can lean on the trunk so when Da saws it, it will fall in the right direction!”

Bard gave Thranduil a sly look before crouching down on his knees. “Yeah, Thran, you hold the tree while I saw it.”

Thranduil did as he was asked, all the while never taking his eyes off Bard. He watched intently as Bard cut a small notch into the tree trunk, and then moved to the other side to begin sawing. With no more than six slices, and a very sexy look on Bard’s face, the tree fell to the ground.

The children cheered and ran about, arms in the air.

“And,” Bard said, brushing his hand against Thranduil’s lower back, “that is how you chop down a tree.” He circled around Thranduil, a predatory look in his eyes.

“Very impressive, lumberjack.”

Without warning, Bard’s hand strayed over the front of Thranduil’s jeans, forming a lump in Thranduil’s throat. A bewildered gasp escaped his mouth, the only sound he was capable of making. Fuck, he hoped Bard was having fun teasing him, because the next time he got Bard alone, there would be some serious payback.

It wasn’t long before they had the tree strapped in the truck and were back on the road.

With a reminder from Tilda and Legolas, they made a quick stop at the drug store to get the infamous hair chalk. All four of them went in together, since Bard knew exactly where to find it. Walking into a public place in tandem with Legolas, Bard, and Tilda left a warm sensation in Thranduil’s chest. It felt right. It felt like they were a family, going out on the weekend before Christmas to pick up last minute gifts, just like all the other families who were out and about today. Thranduil longed to reach out for Bard’s hand, but he fought off the urge. The children weren’t ready for that yet, despite Legolas already knowing just how much his father did, in fact, like Bard. Thranduil wondered if Tilda was just as perceptive.

Once they’d found and purchased the pack of hair chalk, they headed back out to the truck and made their way to Thranduil’s house. Tilda and Legolas chatted about the hair chalk – Tilda explaining again how to do it properly, and Legolas speaking animatedly about trying it out as soon as they arrived home. Thranduil shared a smile with Bard. Did Bard feel as good that their children were getting along as Thranduil did? If that grin was anything to go by, then, yes, Bard was just as elated.

Hopefully everything would continue to go as smoothly once they got back to the house and Hal showed up. Thranduil sent out a prayer to the disco gods that Hal would behave himself and not catch a case of word vomit, blurting out all of Thranduil’s secrets for Bard to hear. And if Hal outed Thranduil’s kinks – well, Thranduil would just have to whip Hal back into shape. Those bits of information were not for Bard to find out from Hal, they were meant to be shared by Thranduil himself, when he was ready.

 

***

The truck rumbled and screeched as Bard pulled into Thranduil’s driveway, as if trying to make a statement that it did not belong in this neighborhood. Bard ignored his worries of lack of self-worth; Thranduil wanted to be with him, he just had to believe it!

Both Tilda and Legolas were eager to get their seatbelts off and head inside; they bounced in their seats in anticipation for Bard to turn off the truck. Were they really this excited to decorate the tree, or was it the hair chalk that they couldn’t wait to play with?

“Da!” Tilda cried, tugging on the door handle. “Unlock the doors!”

“Hold on, honeybee, let me put the truck in park first.”

With the truck in park, Bard obeyed his daughter and unlocked the doors, then pulled the key from the ignition. Tilda and Legolas were out of the truck in a flash, bounding towards the house, little arms flapping at their sides.

Sliding out of the driver’s seat, Bard called out to them. “Hold up, we have to get the tree!” He shook his head; the children weren’t even listening to him.

Thranduil chuckled as he fished around in his pocket. “Don’t worry, I’ll go let them in and then we can deal with the tree.”

Bard nodded and began to undo the tree as Thranduil went to let the children in the house. When Thranduil returned, they freed the tree and hauled it to the door together. Thranduil set the front end of the tree down and pushed the door open, so Bard gripped the tree and managed to get it inside by himself.

“I can help you, silly!”

“It’s okay, I got it.” Bard heaved out a breath and set the tree down in the entrance.

Was he purposely showing off his strength to Thranduil or was he just so used to doing everything on his own that he didn’t even give it a second thought? He couldn’t deny he liked the way Thranduil’s eyes lingered upon him when he displayed any act of physical strength – like cutting down the tree. The way Thranduil had looked at him then was just… well, it was like nothing Bard had ever experienced before. He wasn’t used to someone looking at him that way.

“I hope you don’t mind pine needles all over your floor,” Bard chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ll clean up later. For now, let’s get this thing into the sitting room.”

“That’s where you’re putting it?”

“Yup. I have all the decoration out and ready.”

“Where’d the kids go?”

“Legolas!” Thranduil hollered at the top of his lung, drawing a silent chuckle from Bard. “What?”

“You’re cute when you’re loud,” Bard admitted.

Thranduil snickered. “Oh yeah? I can be very loud; all it takes is the right move.”

“Oh, stop, you bastard.” Bard shook his head. How much longer would he be able to handle Thranduil’s teasing without retaliating? Something was bound to give eventually, despite Bard trying his very best to be good.

The children barreled into the entrance as Thranduil and Bard removed their boots and coats. Upon their arrival, Thranduil seemed to be fighting a smirk. He silently hung up his and Bard’s coats and instructed the children to remove theirs as well. It seemed in their excitement they’d forgotten to rid themselves of their outerwear. At least they’d taken off their boots.

“What’s up, Ada? Are we ready to decorate? Uncle Hal’s not even here yet. He’d be disappointed if we started without him.”

“He’s bringing food, right? Whew, I’m starving!” Tilda said.

“Yup,” Thranduil replied, “I’m gonna give him a call right now and then we’ll get the tree up.”

“The lights will have to go on first,” Bard added. “That’s the boring part.”

“So boring,” Tilda agreed.

“Maybe while Thran and I do the lights, you can ask Legolas to give you the grand tour.” Bard suggested, patting his daughter on the head.

“Yeah! Can you give me a tour?” She looked to Legolas, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, let’s go! Call us when the lights are done—”

“Or when Uncle Hal arrives with food,” Thranduil said. “Whatever comes first.”

The kids ran off together, leaving Bard alone with Thranduil once more.

“So, is my sexy lumberjack going to help me get this beast into the tree stand?”

“Your sexy lumberjack doesn’t work for free,” Bard teased.

“Oh, I know. I plan on paying him back…somehow.” Thranduil looked up with an expression of serious consideration on his face. “But first I have to call the trash queen.”

Bard snorted out a laugh. “Trash queen?”

“That’s what Hal has dubbed himself, so I don’t argue.” Thranduil chuckled.

“You want me to take the tree to the sitting room while you call the queen of the dumpster?”

“I’ll help you.”

Together, they got the tree into the sitting room and Thranduil pulled out his mobile to call Hal. He held onto the phone as it rang; he’d put Hal on speakerphone.

“Bitch!” Was Hal’s greeting.

Bard raised both eyebrows, and Thranduil just shook his head before replying.

“Hey, you. We’re back now.”

“Oh, good! Well I’m in the car right now, you’re on speaker. I’m going to pick up some fucking calzones! You better be impressed, you sour grape!”

Thranduil burst out laughing and Bard could barely contain his own laughter. Hal was ridiculous.

“Oooh, you’ve stepped up your game,” Thranduil said. “You’re on speaker, too. Bard is here.”

“Oh my god! Hi, Bard!”

“Hey, Hal.” Bard replied, still trying to reign in his laughter.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Brad and Angelina; Bard and Thrangelina! You two were meant to be! The stars have aligned!”

“Oh, shush, Hal! What time will you be here?”

“Shouldn’t be longer than twenty minutes! Don’t start without me!”

“We’re just gonna do the lights and then you can help with the…balls.”

“Oh, bitch, you know I’m good with the balls!”

“You like to think you are. So I’ll let you live in your fantasy world.” Thranduil grinned at Bard. “We’ll see you soon, then.”

“Yes, yes. I’ll be there when I’m there. Ciao!”

Thranduil hung up and gave an exaggerated sigh, drawing a chuckle from Bard.

They worked together to get the tree into the stand and then Thranduil fetched the LED lights. The cords were unraveled and plugged in so they could get an accurate look at the length of the string of lights to best figure out how to space them as they wound them around the tree. Before long, the lights were strung into place and all they had left to do was make sure the cord was well secured to the branches.

“There. Now it looks magical,” Bard said. And it was true – such a large tree, strung with soft effervescent light made the whole room appear as if something out of a fairytale. He smiled at Thranduil who allowed a grin of his own.

“Beautiful,” Thranduil commented, hands on his hips, admiring their handiwork. “And it smells good, too.”

“Yeah, the pine makes the whole house smell like Christmas.”

Before they had a chance to call the children to join them for decorating, the doorbell rang. That must be Hal. Thranduil chuckled and shot Bard a look as he made his way to the door. In a hushed tone he said, “I hope you’re prepared.”

“To be in the presence of royalty?” Bard joked, following Thranduil to the door.

Thranduil snickered as a melody rapped on the door, then he pulled it open to greet Hal.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hal beamed, stepping inside and promptly handing the bags of what Bard guessed was their calzones into Thranduil’s arms. “Hi, Bard! So nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you, too, Hal.” Bard replied, offering to take the bags from Thranduil.

The look on Hal’s face could only be described as a leer. Like he was sizing Bard up. His eyes wandered up and down Bard’s body and he clicked his tongue before shaking his head. “I don’t remember you being so gorgeous, but I guess my mind was muddled with other things the last time we saw each other. And bad lighting. Seeing you in this lighting…well, hot damn.” Bard’s face reddened as Hal fixed his gaze on Thranduil and said, “You lucky fucker!”

Bard couldn’t even string together a sentence, so he just stood there, blushing. Thranduil was quick to scold Hal, smacking his friend on the arm and scoffing loudly.

“Yes, I’m lucky, I know.” Thranduil murmured, giving Bard a side-glance, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Thank the gods that just then the children came running into the entrance.

“Uncle Hal!” Legolas hollered, throwing himself at Hal for a big hug.

“Hello, my darling leaf! How are you today? Good, I hope.” He said, and added before Legolas even had a chance to reply, “And who’s this beautiful little lady?” Hal glanced at Tilda with a big smile.

“This is my new friend, Tilda. Tilda, this is Uncle Hal.”

“Hi, Uncle Hal,” Tilda said, offering her hand to the flamboyant man. “Nice to meet you.”

Hal shook her hand. “Very nice to meet you, too, princess.” He took off his boots, hung up his coat and announced proudly, “I brought calzones and cupcakes!”

That met with a boisterous cheer from both children. They jumped up and down and started grabbing at the bags that Bard held. Bard let them take the bags into the kitchen. The three adults followed behind but not before Bard could thank Hal for his generosity.

“Thanks for bringing lunch for us, Hal,” he said. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Oh, Bard!” Hal put a hand to his chest. “You’re very welcome. I’m always glad to be of service.” He winked in Bard’s direction, and Thranduil smacked him again.

“Settle down.” Thranduil said.

In the kitchen, the children already had the calzones out of the bag, examining each one to see what their options were. Hal explained to them what was in each one, and both children chose a calzone with only cheese and pepperoni. Bard didn’t care what kind he got, grateful as he was. They didn’t sit down at the kitchen table to eat, but rather crowded around the island counter, the kids kneeling on the stools. Hal moaned as he ate, which drew laughter from them all. Thranduil got drinks for everyone – juice for the kids, lime Perrier for Hal and plain old water for Bard. He didn’t need anything fancy.

It was a strange mixture of emotions for Bard, spending time with so many people in such a laid back environment with no one yelling at him, no one bitching and nagging him to hurry up. It was a nice change, so Bard savored it, grinning happily while he ate. Conversation was sparse, everyone so hungry from their adventure at the tree farm.

The cupcakes Hal had brought were taken with them into the sitting room once they’d finished eating their calzones, the children racing ahead of them. They looked over all the decorations Thranduil had set out and began opening boxes.

“Can we start decorating the tree?” Legolas asked, an eager expression on his face.

“Yes, go for it.” Thranduil urged, helping them open boxes.

“Oh, goodie,” Tilda chimed. “My favourite part!”

Thranduil ended up sitting on the sofa with Bard, holding his hand gently, his thumb rubbing Bard’s knuckles in small circular motions. They let the kids have their fun hanging ornaments, and much to Bard’s surprise, Thranduil was not at all anal about the placement of the decorations the way Madison had been with the children. She always had to correct them, or tell them if they put an ornament in a place that didn’t look quite so good. Thranduil just let them enjoy themselves, which meant so much to Bard. This would be the first year that Tilda wasn’t reprimanded for hanging the ornaments too low on the tree. Bard was grateful, and he squeezed Thranduil’s hand in his own. They shared a smile and when the kids weren’t looking, Bard leaned in to press a chaste kiss to Thranduil’s cheek.

The children may have missed it, but it seemed Hal hadn’t. He giggled, trying to cover the sound with the back of his hand before directing kissy sounds at Bard and Thranduil. Hal proceeded to hand out cupcakes to the children, who each took one with glee, bringing the decorating to a halt. It didn’t take long before the treats were finished and they were back to work. Hal hooked up his iPhone to the speakers and turned on some Christmas music.

At length, before the tree was fully decorated, the children ended up wandering off, getting bored with doing the same repetitive task over and over. That’s how it had always been at home. Sigrid usually lasted the longest, but Tilda got tired, and Bain opted out about half way through. At least Tilda and Legolas lasted a longer than that. So, Bard, Thranduil and Hal added the final touches themselves.

“The tree is still naked without the topper!” Hal said, holding up both an angel and a star in his hands. “Which one, Thran?”

“It’s a tradition to let Legolas choose. Maybe this year Tilda would like to make the decision for us.” Thranduil offered, looking at Bard.

“That’s sweet, Thran. I bet she’d love that.” Bard felt warm all over. Thranduil was kind to think of his daughter and let her take part in the tradition.

They called the kids back, and Tilda was elated that Thranduil asked for her help.

“So, which one do you think would look best?” Thranduil questioned. “The angel or the star?”

Tilda hummed, scratching her chin and looking up to the ceiling, in deep thought. “I think…I like the angel! So she can watch over us.”

Thranduil smiled and nodded. “I agree. A very wise decision.” He took the angel from Hal and held it out to Tilda. “Since it was your decision, you also have the honor of placing her on top of the tree.”

“Really?” Tilda gaped. Bard recalled one Christmas a few years ago when Tilda wanted to put their angel on the treetop and Madison wouldn’t let her, saying that she wouldn’t be able to put it on straight or would mess it up somehow. “You mean it?”

“Of course, my dear.” Thranduil replied. “Do you want to?”

“Yes, please! But…I’m too short. I can’t reach!”

Thranduil crouched down beside her. “I think if you get on my shoulders, you’ll be just the right height.”

“Yeah?”

Thranduil nodded and helped a giggling Tilda onto his shoulders, holding onto her legs to keep her secure. “Hold on tight, missy.”

“Yes, I will!” Tilda said, clutching the angel in her hands as Thranduil stood to his full height.

“Okay, can you reach?”

Tilda held out the angel and positioned it on the very top of the tree. “I think I got it,” she said. She pushed it down a little to make sure it was in place and when she freed it from her grasp, she grinned, delighted to see that it stayed put.

“Good job! You did it!” Thranduil praised, completing melting Bard’s heart.

“Look at that, Til!” Bard enthused. “It looks wonderful!”

“Thank you, Da!” Tilda grinned as Thranduil let her down. “And thank you, Thran for letting me do that!”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Your Da is right, it does look wonderful.”

“Thanks,” she blushed.

“Awww!” Hal cried out in the background. “What a picture-perfect family moment! Y’all are as sweet as the day is long! Like honey on a lollipop! Where is a camera when you need one?!”

“Hal, there’s a camera on your phone, you’re just not quick enough.” Thranduil said, sticking his tongue out at Hal. The kids laughed.

“Oh, pish posh, Thran. You want me to make candy cane hot cocoa? Yeah?”

“Yes, please!” Tilda and Legolas begged.

With that, Hal headed into the kitchen on a mission.

Thranduil took a seat on the sofa, motioning for Bard to sit beside him, as the children gazed in awe at the spectacle before them. The tree really did look amazing. Legolas turned to Thranduil and pointed to his hair, which contained a streak of green on one side, and a streak of red on the other.

“Look, Tilda put the chalk in my hair. Do you like it?”

Both Bard and Thranduil nodded, saying how good it looked, much to Legolas’s and Tilda’s delight.

As Legolas messed around, rearranging some ornaments on the tree, Tilda came up to Thranduil with a shy grin, looking as though she had something to say, but not knowing how to word it.

“Your hair is really pretty,” she finally said, making Thranduil smile and run his fingers through the length of his hair.

“Thank you, Tilda. That’s very sweet of you to say so.”

“It’s so long and so soft looking. Can I touch it?”

“Yes, of course you can.” Thranduil said.

Tilda crawled up on the sofa beside Thranduil, kneeling as she gently brushed her little fingers through his hair. She cooed softly as she positioned herself behind Thranduil. “How did it get so long? You must have been growing it forever!”

“Since I was about thirteen or fourteen,” Thranduil told her. “It’s been long for about half of my life.”

“Wow, that’s a long time. It’s almost as long as I am tall!”

“Why don’t we measure and see?” Thranduil offered. He slid onto the floor and gestured for Tilda to stand beside him. He positioned himself on his knees so his head was at the same height as Tilda’s so they could get an accurate measurement.

“It _is_ almost as long as you are tall, honeybee,” Bard agreed, shifting on the sofa so he could get a better view. Watching the way his boyfriend interacted with his daughter made Bard tingle all over. Such an adorable sight it was that he couldn’t help but pull out his phone and snap a few pictures when neither Thranduil nor Tilda were aware.

“We need a measuring tape!” Legolas said, trotting over to join them. “I wanna see how many inches Ada’s hair really is!”

“There’s one in that junk drawer in the kitchen. You wanna go grab it, Legs?”

“Yes, Ada! Be right back.” Legolas ran off.

Tilda was looking at how far down Thranduil’s hair went in relation to her body and a surprised expression took over her face when she saw that it was almost past her knees. Legolas returned speedily with a measuring tape in hand. First he measured Tilda, who was fifty inches, or nearly four-foot-two. Then he measured his father’s hair, which he concluded was thirty-one inches.

“Sooooo long!” Tilda exclaimed. “I wish my hair was longer!”

“Just let it grow and it’ll get there. It takes a while, so you have to be patient.” Thranduil said.

“And get it trimmed regularly, Ada always says,” Legolas added, setting the measuring tape on the table.

Tilda snared the measuring tape and held it out to Thranduil. “Can you measure mine?”

Thranduil nodded, and held out the measuring tape to Tilda’s hair. “It’s just over fourteen inches.”

“I want it down past my bum!”

“Ladies and gentlemen!”Hal yelled, catching everyone’s attention. He appeared around the corner with five steaming mugs set upon a tray. “I present to you, Uncle Hal’s famous candy cane hot cocoa!”

Everyone cheered and took a cup, thanking Hal until the flamboyant man offered a bow. At length, the children ran off, their cups of hot cocoa in hand, informing the adults that they were going to play with Legos, because that was much more exciting than sitting around with adults.

“Walking Dead, tonight, Thran?” Hal asked, pacing around the room, leisurely sipping his drink.

“It’s not on now. Comes back in February.”

“Shame. I bet you’re really missing the eye candy!” Hal laughed, drawing Bard’s curiosity. Eye candy on a show about zombies? Bard had never watched The Walking Dead, but Sigrid watched it, so Bard had caught glimpses of the decayed zombies shuffling about.

“Eye candy?” Bard asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Thranduil opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but Hal cut him off. “Daryl Dixon. Thran’s favourite character.”

“What’s so special about Mr. Dixon?” Bard grinned. He couldn’t deny it; he was interested in what made this Daryl Dixon attractive in Thranduil’s mind. Maybe knowing what Thranduil liked in a man could help Bard be a more…pleasing boyfriend. Or maybe that was a ridiculous notion, but Bard was curious, nonetheless.

It was Hal who spoke again as Thranduil bit back a grin. “Well, Thran thinks he’s hot because he wears this leather vest with angel wings, and rides a badass motorcycle. And, he’s dirty as fuck. Always covered in grime.” Hal made a face and Thranduil rolled his eyes dramatically.

“What can I say,” he shot Bard a quick glance, “I like a man on a bike. And a little dirt doesn’t hurt either.”

Oh, yes, Thranduil had expressed interest in Bard’s motorcycle. Bard just hadn’t been aware of how interested Thranduil truly was. Bard found himself openly grinning at Thranduil’s confession, winking playfully.

“What’s this?” Hal approached, wagging his finger, pointing to Bard and then Thranduil. “What’s this look you two are sharing? Is there something Uncle Hal is missing?!”

Thranduil spoke before Bard had a chance. “Hal, don’t play dumb. I told you Bard has a motorcycle.”

Hal flapped his hand, brushing away Thranduil’s comment. “And you’re a mechanic, right?” He directed the question to Bard.

“Yup.”

“Well, here’s a suggestion,” Hal snickered. Thranduil tried to protest, tried to get Hal to shut up, but it didn’t work and Hal just kept talking. “Don’t shower after work, leave on your dirty clothes, and Thran won’t be able to resist you.”

“I already can’t resist him,” Thranduil mumbled under his breath, hiding behind his cup of hot cocoa.

“Oh, girl! This is too much for my little heart!” Hal flung a hand up to his chest, clutching at his shirt. Lowering the music, Hal took a seat on the floor beside the side table where his phone was connected to the sound system.

Bard couldn’t keep his eyes off Thranduil’s beautiful face; that small smile captivated him in a way nothing else did.

It was Hal who broke the silence. “Thran, have you shown Bard the house you’re thinking of buying?”

“Not yet,” Bard answered.

“Did you want to see it?”

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

So, Thranduil got out his laptop and opened up a real estate website, which showed various pictures of the house he planned on buying.

Bard was stunned at the beauty of the house. It was a luxurious thing, a mansion that most people would only ever dream of owning. A lump welled in the back of Bard’s throat when he saw the price. He tried to look away and focus on the images, but his eyes kept going back to that number, lingering there, like it was taunting him. He didn’t say anything about the cost. What was he supposed to say?

“Wow, Thran. This is a mansion,” was all he could say. “It’s gorgeous.”

Thranduil hummed. Bard couldn’t tell whether Thranduil could detect his worry or not. “I’m excited to go see it tomorrow,” Thranduil said plainly.

What on earth did Thranduil see in him? Here was a man who could have anything he wanted, and for some reason he chose Bard. The thought was puzzling, but Bard tried to ignore it. He kept telling himself that money didn’t matter.

But it did. And the thought remained even after he and Tilda left to go home.

***

In the truck, to get his mind off that number, Bard asked Tilda what she thought about Legolas and Thranduil.

“I like Legolas, Da, he’s really fun! He has so many Legos, even the Minecraft ones!” Tilda enthused, gesticulating wildly with her little hands. “And I like Thran, too. He’s really pretty and has such beautiful hair. And he was sweet to let me put the angel on the tree! Mommy never let me do that.”

“I’m glad you like them, honeybee. And I’m glad you had a good time today.”

“So,” Tilda ventured. “Is Thran you boyfriend?”

Bard grumbled, not sure what to say. _How about the truth?_ “Well, he’s, uh – we’re…”

“I saw you kiss him at the tree farm,” she stated, matter-of-factly.

“You – wha—” Shit, Bard had thought they’d been discreet about that.

“Yeah. So, he’s your boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah, Til, he is,” Bard finally admitted. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, he’s really nice.” Tilda said, glancing over at her father. “Do you love him?”

Bard swallowed so hard he could hear the sound in his ears. He and Thranduil haven’t said those words to each other yet. And although Bard felt love, it was still early in their relationship. “Um, well, it’s complicated, honeybee. We haven’t said—”

“That’s okay, Da. I think, if you love him, you should tell him.” Tilda mused, giving voice to her thoughts.

“Give it time,” was Bard’s response. He shouldn’t be having this kind of conversation with his youngest daughter, but surprisingly, it didn’t feel wrong. Tilda seemed very accepting of Bard and Thranduil’s relationship, and for that, Bard was gratified.

 

***

After putting Legolas to bed that night, Thranduil found himself in the living room, channel surfing. He didn’t know why, but he stopped to watch _Law and Order: SVU_ , a show he never normally watched, except when nothing better was on.

His throat tightened upon realization of the nature of the episode. It was about a rape victim. They were in the courtroom, the defendant’s lawyer spewing heated words at the victim on the stand, implying that she was at fault, that it was because of her insecurity that she was allegedly raped. In the words of the criminal defense attorney, she was pissed off that her attacker did not find her attractive so she accused him of rape. Thranduil could feel her rage like fire burning through his veins as she began defending herself past the point of no return. On the stand, she yelled, insisting that she was perfect and that her insecurity had nothing to do with it; she was so blind with rage that she began to strip off her shirt, right there in front of everyone as the jury looked on in utter shock and disbelief.

Thranduil struggled to swallow the thick lump in his throat. He flicked off the television, his vision swimming. Why would he even watch something like that, something that he knew would only cause him upset? Was he completely masochistic? Probably, for when he’d heard the mention of rape, he hadn’t made any moves to change the channel. Instead, he’d found himself all the more engrossed.

It was as if he were imagining what the court process would be like for him. Would he lose it and start taking off his clothes on the stand, declaring to everyone in the room that he was perfect and that Galion did in fact rape him? Would all the questions from the defense attorney muddle his memory of that day so that he blanked and said the wrong thing, ultimately putting himself in the wrong? Would Bard be there, forced to hear and see such a sad display? And what would he think if the defense attorney asked Thranduil about the nature of his previous relationships with men, about rough sex and all the kinks he’d been keeping a secret from Bard? Would Bard scoff in disgust and walk out of Thranduil’s life forever?

Too many thoughts flooded his mind, too many cruel endings that he should not be pondering.

But the thoughts only intensified the more he tried to fight them. The images he was presented with were ones he could not easily ignore. Alone in the darkness of the room, he drew his knees up to his chest and let himself _feel_. It was stupid, but he wasn’t able to stop it now; the dam had all but broken. The sting of unshed tears had become too powerful and Thranduil bit his tongue hard in a desperate attempt to tamp his emotions.

Within seconds he choked out a sob, his eyes brimming with tears. He dug his fingers into his bare arms, a fruitless effort to displace his feelings, to feel physical pain rather than heart-wrenching emotional pain. Why was it that physical pain hurt so much less? And why was it that a physical attack had managed to leave him with such deep emotional scars? Why couldn’t he just get over it?

_Stupid fucking Galion._

In the midst of his anguish, Thranduil felt he truly deserved what he got. And in his outrage, his mind had turned on him, as it always did in times like these. He stared at the darkened wall, eyes unblinking, still flooding with hot tears, but all he could see before him was himself on the ground, ass in the air, taking it like a common whore. And loving every second of it, loving the way it felt when Galion struck him, when Galion forced his filthy cock inside Thranduil’s tight ass and made him his bitch. _You’re such a dirty little slut, such a pretty thing when you cry and beg._ In this distortion, he saw Bard standing above him, joining in, cackling out an evil string of laughter. The sound hurt Thranduil’s ears.

His heart pounded frantically in his ribcage and his palms grew sweaty. He absently wiped them on the sofa. The sound of a car driving past outside jolted him from his altered state and the painful images slowly melted away. Thranduil slumped over onto his side, still curled up in a fetal position as he cried and cried.

What would Emilia say if she saw him now? What would his mother say? They wouldn’t even recognize him. He barely recognized himself.

And Bard… What would Bard think?

Thranduil had every intention of cutting off that thought before he’d have a chance to answer it, but it was too late. He could never help himself. He always answered the bad thoughts.

_He’d leave you. He’d laugh at you. He wouldn’t want to be with such an emotionally damaged person. He’s too stable and grounded, and you… you’re just a huge fuck-up with no future. How could you even think that he’d want someone like you? Nobody wants you. You’re worthless. All you’re good for is a quick fuck._

A weak voice protested, _But that’s not what Bard wants._

The stronger voice fought back. _You’ll see. Once he finds out about your mental illness, he’ll be long gone…after he fucks you, that is._

_Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up shutupshutup_

_He won’t accept you the way you are._

_I’ll change._

_A cheetah can’t change its spots. You’ll always be like this._

_It’s Galion’s fault. Bard will understand._

_There you go, blaming everyone else and taking no responsibility._

_I take responsibility. It’s my fault they’re dead! I know!_

He let out a long, drawn-out snarl, unable to deal with his own internal battle. He wrenched himself upright, batting strands of hair from where they clung violently to his damp face. He thought of the story of the wolves that his grandmother used to tell him. An old Cherokee man told his grandson of a fight going on inside him; two wolves battling, one was evil – anger, sorrow, self-pity, guilt; the other was good – joy, love, hope, compassion; this same fight went on inside everyone. When the little boy asked which wolf would win, the old man answered, _the one you feed._

Thranduil notoriously fed the evil wolf.  

He stood on unsteady legs, stumbling towards the basement stairs. He was fed up with himself, sick of the way he behaved, tired of listening to the overplayed thoughts in his head. God, he fucking irritated himself beyond belief! No wonder everyone ran away once they discovered the real him. He would run away, too, if he could.

Maybe he could escape by creating. Maybe if he painted something –

_Or…_

The evil wolf launched itself to the forefront of Thranduil’s mind again.

_You could ease your pain in the only way that ever really worked for you._

_Do it, do it, do it, do it_

The fucking evil wolf egged him on.

With blurred vision, he fumbled around in one of his work drawers. Pens, erasers, geometric tools, bits of paper…

Ah.

X-Acto knife.

_No, you fucking idiot. What the fuck are you thinking?_

With the flick of his thumb, the edge of the retractable blade appeared. Thranduil’s heart sped up; he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. He took a deep breath and smiled at the blade the way one would smile at a long-lost lover.

_Do it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.
> 
>  
> 
> Thranduil's theme song for the end part of this chapter is [ Earth by Sleeping At Last ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xGWtF1AttTw)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at this, I'm early!   
> This chapter is shorter than the rest, but it is important.
> 
> Here, have some angst and some fluff!
> 
>  
> 
> Trigger warning: Self-harm, mentions of suicide, mental illness

_“What the fuck happened here?” Eyes darted around the room to where Thranduil paced back and forth hysterically._

_“I-I…I d-don’t know,” Thranduil sobbed, throwing his hands up and latching onto his hair. He couldn’t fight it; the anger within could not be contained and he pulled hard on his hair, yanking strands out. “I just—” he tried again, but was abruptly cut off._

_“You just what? You fucking lost your mind? God, what is it with you?”_

_The critical words hit him hard, like acid being thrown in his face. He couldn’t breathe. He was choking. The reaction was immediate, intensifying the emotions he already felt. It was a sharp, anaphylactic response, enough to make his body feel like it was shutting down, psychologically and physically._

_He was helpless against it; always had been._

_Death felt like it was imminent. He had an urgent, all-powerful need to wail, cry, scream, break whatever was in sight._

_He yelled as loud as his lungs would allow him. “I’m a fucking piece of shit and I should die!” In his drunken state, Thranduil kicked the leg of the coffee table, buckling over in pain and frustration when his foot struck the metal._

_A laugh. “Serves you right.”_

_As Thranduil fell upon the sofa, he grabbed a cushion and whipped it across the room. It wasn’t enough. “Fuck you! Why don’t you care about me? Why doesn’t anyone give a shit?”_

_“Look at you. You’re pathetic.” The condescending tone grew more severe._

_“I know! You will never love me; no one will.” He knew he needed to calm down, but how could he when his boyfriend kept hurting him like this?_

_“Not if you keep acting like a mental case.”_

_More critical words. They stung like daggers being thrust into his chest and twisted. “I am a mental case! Why can’t I just control it?! You want to know why?! Because of you! Because of my father. Because of my fucking brain!”_

_“You’re drunk,” he said, barking out another laugh. “Typical Thranduil – can’t control his emotional outbursts, so he goes and gets drunk. You poor little baby. I know just what you need to make you feel better…”_

_Hope briefly surged through him. Was he being offered help? “Yeah?” Thranduil asked, looking up from where he sat hunched over on the sofa, heaving out short breaths, fingers digging into his skull._

_“You need a good fuck.”_

_A groan rose from deep in his throat. He didn’t want a good fuck. He didn’t want to be made fun of or talked down to. He wanted someone to listen. No one wanted to listen to him. No one let him vent. And where was his so-called best friend? Probably doing his best to avoid the drama. Who could blame Hal for trying to protect himself? The thought of Hal and their severed friendship brought fresh tears to Thranduil’s eyes, stinging his cheeks. “I don’t want to,” he finally said, openly weeping._

_“Stop fucking crying! You’re like a fucking five year old who got lost in the supermarket. Where’s mommy? Not here to save you now, is she?”_

_The daggers in his chest twisted again. Anger bubbled up, and Thranduil was quick to lash out. “Don’t you dare talk about her!” He spat, heaving himself up off the couch, lunging towards his boyfriend._

_“Why, because she’s dead? Just like that wife of yours.” The fucking asshole had the audacity to snort in his face. The sound was poison to Thranduil’s ears. “How did you manage to get a woman in bed with you anyway? That, I’ll never understand. You know I’m the only one who will ever love you. No one else would put up with this shit, Thran, and you know it. Without me, you’d be alone forever. No one would ever want you.”_

_“No one will ever want me,” Thranduil repeated._

 

***

Bard spent the evening lounging. He never allowed himself to lounge, or rather - Madison had never allowed him to lounge. But after the fun-filled day he had, he was tired, though not quite in the mood to go to bed either. So he rested on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table as he channel surfed.

His boss had called him after supper, telling him that his vacation days were being changed. At first, he was annoyed about it, but it seemed that in the end, it worked out for the better. Instead of having time off between Christmas and New Years Day, he was now off until Christmas, and would only go back on the twenty-eighth, thanks to Christmas falling on a Friday. So he didn’t have to worry about going in to work tomorrow. What a relief!

He’d called his parents to see if they would be able to watch the kids on the days he would be at work, as he didn’t like leaving them alone all day. He was gratified when his parents offered for the children to stay at their place for a few days after Christmas. Bard would be able to work and not stress about the children being alone. He knew they’d have a good time with Nan and Bampi – they always did. That was another reason for Bard to smile.

By ten o’clock he found himself in his bedroom, tidying up for the first time all week. He finally picked up all his dirty clothes and deposited them into the hamper. He’d do the laundry tomorrow. It was too late now. He took his time putting away a few articles of clean clothing that had never found their way out of the laundry basket.

Before long, he made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower to help him wind down for the night. Then, he crawled into bed. Sigrid was still up, talking to friends online and making plans for over the holiday; Bain played video games in his room; and little Tilda was fast asleep, worn out from her exciting day with Legolas.

Nestled beneath the covers, Bard thought fondly of the day he and Thranduil had shared with their children. Everything had gone so well, almost too well. _Too good to be true,_ Bard thought.

He was seconds away from sleep when his mobile rang on his bedside table.

Disoriented, he sat up and fumbled for his phone in the dark. He squinted at the bright light, his eyes taking a moment to focus.

It was Thranduil.

He accepted the call and put the phone to his ear. “Thran?” He said, voice rough in the silence of the room.

No reply.

“Thran,” Bard repeated, “Are you there?”

“Bard…” Thranduil whispered at last, his voice weak, broken.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” The tone of Bard’s voice grew urgent. He knew, just by the way Thranduil spoke, that something was very wrong. “Is everything okay?”

“Bard,” Thranduil said again. “I –” He hesitated, sniffling. Was he crying?

“What happened, Thran? Are you okay? What do you need me to do?” The words spilled from Bard’s lips. He was already sitting up in his bed, kicking off the covers and turning on the lamp. He didn’t know what he meant to do, but his body needed to move. A knot formed in his stomach as he paced back and forth in the small space between his bed and dresser.

Finally, Thranduil answered. “I’m fine, Bard.” His voice cracked. He wasn’t fine. “I just…” Thranduil paused, exhaling a shaky breath.

Bard waited for him to continue. Thranduil groaned, and the sound made Bard believe he was in pain. It was part wince, part exasperation.

“That’s a lie. I’m not fine.” Another sigh. “I’m sorry, Bard. I had to call you. I didn’t know what else to do…”

“Thran, I’m really worried. What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Thranduil hummed. “I just needed to hear your voice. Can you talk to me?”

Bard swallowed. It was hard not to keep asking what was wrong, but he wanted to make Thranduil feel better, so he talked.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, but let’s start with this… I had a really good time with you today. Tilda enjoyed it, too. She and Legolas got along well, so I’m happy about that. And, doll, you were so good with her, letting her put the angel on top of the tree. She was honored. It was a sweet thing to do for her.

Thranduil hummed again.

“You looked just as beautiful as always,” Bard tried to smile. When Thranduil said nothing, Bard continued. “You can talk to me, you know. You can tell me what’s wrong…”

“Oh, Bard!” Thranduil huffed in resignation, his voice shuddering.

“I’m here, doll, I’m here. It’s okay, you can tell me.” Bard spread himself out on his bed, lying flat on his back, twisting a strand of hair around his finger as his knees bounced anxiously.

“I did something stupid.”

“What does that mean?”

“I, uh – I…”

“What did you do? Are you okay?”

Thranduil made another noise like he was in pain. Bard’s head spun. What happened? What did Thranduil do? The knot in his stomach had doubled in size, now threatening to suffocate him from the inside out – if such a fate was even possible.

“I’m f-fine, it’s nothing serious.”

“Doll, are you hurt? You sound like you’re in pain. Tell me what happened. Do you want me to come over?” Bard flew up from the bed, tripping as he hauled up an old pair of sweatpants.

“Baby, no, no. Please, don’t come over. I’m fine. I just had a bad night, that’s all. I’m not in pain. I’m fine. I just hoped you could help calm me down.”

“Are you sure, babe? I’m worried as fuck right now.”

“Bard, you can’t leave your children.”

“Sig and Bain are still up; I can tell them I have to go out for a few minutes. It’ll be fine.”

“No, please. I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

“Why would I get mad at you? I care about you, doll. And I want to help.”

“I watched a stupid TV show and then I…I hurt myself.”

Bard choked out a breath. “What? You what? How? What did you do?” A million different scenarios rushed into Bard’s head. But one kept niggling him – Thranduil had slit his wrists. He’d tried to kill himself. God, Bard didn’t want to think about it, but what else was he supposed to believe when Thranduil confessed to _hurting himself_? Was that something Thranduil would do? Bard realized then that he didn’t know. He didn’t know if Thranduil was the type to cut himself purposely, or if he was suicidal.

“I was stupid.”

“Thran, you’re not giving me answers. Do you need an ambulance?” Bard yanked on a shirt and started to dig through his sock drawer.

“No, no, no! No ambulance. It’s not that bad; nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Please don’t call an ambulance. I don’t want to scare Legolas. Just…please, don’t...”

Bard pulled on a pair of socks. “I’m gonna come over then, okay?”

It was quiet for a moment. “Okay,” Thranduil mumbled.

“Yeah? Promise me you won’t do anything until I get there. Just sit and wait, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

***

How had a stupid television show managed to cause such emotional turmoil? How had it caused him to lose all control of himself? He’d reverted back to his old ways, and it made him sick.

Talking with Bard had calmed Thranduil, for the most part. The turbulent feelings had subsided, only to be replaced by guilt and shame. Now his boyfriend was on his way over and Thranduil had no idea what was going to happen. What if Bard yelled at him? What if Bard broke up with him?

God, he couldn’t let himself think about that. It hurt too much.

With a piece of paper towel wrapped around his arm and his sleeve pulled down over top of it, he stepped out into the garage. He needed a smoke. So fucking bad. He crouched down with his back against the door, and with a cringe, allowed himself to recall his brief lapse of judgment.

_After he found the knife, he sat on his work chair, knees pressed tightly together, a hurricane wreaking havoc inside his chest. It was the kind of sensation that left him breathless, gasping for air._

_Sparkling grey pressed against his porcelain wrist. His hands sweat with anticipation, an all too familiar feeling. His nausea did not stop him. He pushed down on the blade, tendons dancing beneath the thin skin as he flexed his fingers. With his wrist bent back and his palm facing upward, he pushed on the blade a bit harder._

_He bit the inside of his cheek, swallowing hard, eyes fluttering shut. His mouth began to water, the taste metallic._

_It only took a fraction of a second for him to drag the blade along his skin, crimson droplets blooming in its wake. He did it; why did he do it? Why didn’t he stop himself?_

_For a moment, he felt nothing. The pain ceased; he properly distracted himself. So why did he feel so fucking bad? His vision swam when he glanced at the mark the blade had created. Blood slowly seeped from the cut and everything blurred as tears continued to flood his eyes._

_It was then that he jerked the blade away from his wrist, his fingers so wet that he nearly dropped it. His heart felt hot and heavy, he could hear the way it pounded in his ears, behind his eyes like a dam had broken. And finally, after a long, broken exhale, he threw the knife back into the drawer and slammed it shut._

_Thranduil cursed and shoved an easel. It toppled over, crashing down to the ground. His fists were clenched so tightly he didn’t even notice the blood trickling into the palm of his hand. The sight of the blood began to make him weak, so he found a roll of paper towel at his work station and sunk to the floor._

_He realized then that he needed to calm down. The cut started to sting so he placed a sheet of paper towel upon it, blood quickly soaking through. He added more paper towel and put pressure on the wound with his right hand._

_Then, as if he’d been guided by the good wolf, he pulled his phone from his pocket and called Bard._

He sighed. Looking at it now, he wondered why he hadn’t called Bard sooner. Maybe he never would have cut himself if he’d only reached out before it was too late.

Maybe if he’d just gone out for a cigarette…

Or put on some angry music…

Or eaten a whole jar of peanut butter…

He couldn’t think of _what ifs_ , though. It wasn’t helpful. It only made his feelings of regret and guilt multiply. And he knew those feelings could cause him to break down again. So he finished off his smoke in silence and went back into the house.

Now, he just had to wait for his boyfriend’s arrival.

Something that should bring him relief only brought him fear and worry.

What was he supposed to tell Bard? What would Bard think when he saw Thranduil’s wrist? Would he come to the conclusion that most people did and assume that Thranduil was suicidal? How much was Thranduil prepared to tell Bard? Fuck. If he had it his way, he wouldn’t say anything at all. But that wasn’t fair to Bard. They’d made a promise to be open and honest with each other. And right now, Thranduil wasn’t sticking to that promise.

_Just tell him that you cut because of the television show you watched. You were triggered and you needed a way to feel better, to cope._

_Yeah, but he’ll see the scars. And he’ll know that you’ve done it before. Then what will you say?_

_How about the truth?_

_No, no, no. He won’t be able to handle the truth about your stupid, fucking mental illness. No one wants to be with someone like you._

_You NEED to tell him. You’re lying by omission._

_He’ll abandon me. He’ll reject me. And you know what that does._

_He won’t._

_He will._

Just then, a knock sounded at the front door, starling Thranduil from his internal debate. He’d just have to play it by ear then.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly pulled the door open. Bard didn’t waste any time letting himself in. His face was painted with the most worried expression Thranduil had ever seen on him.

“Thran, are you okay? Tell me what happened.” Bard demanded, kicking off his boots and letting his coat fall to the floor. He placed both hands on Thranduil’s shoulders, his eyes boring into Thranduil’s, searching for something, anything.

“I—” Thranduil began, unable to finish as Bard interrupted.

“You said you hurt yourself. Show me, Thran.” His gaze intensified. He wasn’t playing games.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Thranduil croaked.

“I’m not going to be mad at you, doll. I’m here to take care of you, okay? So show me.”

Thranduil swallowed and reached to pull up his sleeve gingerly. He didn’t want Bard to see. But fuck, it was too late for that now. _You went and fucked up, so now he has to see. You brought this upon yourself, idiot._

When his sleeve was up, he noticed that blood had seeped through the paper towel, causing his heart to race even faster. When he glanced at Bard, the guilt struck him all over again. Bard blanched at the sight of the blood stains. Thranduil went to remove the paper towel, but Bard caught Thranduil’s right hand, stopping him. Thranduil furrowed his brows. Bard gave him a solemn look, proceeding to remove the makeshift bandage on his own.

“Oh, doll…” he drawled as he pulled the paper towel from Thranduil’s wrist, exposing the cut. Without anything covering it, it began bleeding again.

Thranduil winced. “I’m sorry, Bard. I know how stupid I am. I know I –”

“Shh,” Bard hushed him. “C’mon, come upstairs and I’ll fix you up.” Bard now wore a look of purpose on his face. Like he knew exactly what he had to do.

So, without protest, Thranduil let Bard guide him up the stairs and into his bathroom. Bard rooted around in the medicine cabinet, letting out a little grunt.

“What are you looking for?” Thranduil questioned. He nearly cringed at how small and weak his voice sounded.

“Do you have steri-strips?” Bard asked.

“Like that gauze stuff?”

“No, like—” Bard shook his head and stuffed his hand into the pocket of his sweatpants. “It’s fine, I brought some.”

“How did you know what you’d need?”

“I wanted to be prepared.” Bard explained. “Now, we need to clean this.”

“I have peroxide.”

“No, not that.” Bard made a face, pursing his lips.

“No?”

“It can destroy healthy cells, so it delays healing time. And it can cause scar tissue formation, or so I’ve read. So I never use the stuff since it does more harm than good. All we need to do is run it under water and use a mild soap. Nothing with fragrance.”

“Since when did you become a doctor?” Thranduil allowed a small soundless chuckle.

“Working as a mechanic almost guarantees that you’ll have to patch up some sort of wound, whether on yourself or someone else, so it helps to know how to handle it. I’ve had a few mishaps.” Bard cleared his throat and led Thranduil to the sink, where he turned on the water, checking it and adjusting the temperature before guiding Thranduil’s arm beneath the running stream.

“I can do it, you know.”

“I know you can, but I want to,” Bard admitted, gazing at the various soaps and skin care products Thranduil had on the counter.

“You can use this stuff,” Thranduil grabbed a bottle of fragrance-free cleanser and handed it to Bard, who pumped a bit out into his hand.

“This might sting,” he warned.

“That’s fine.”

Bard moved Thranduil’s wrist from beneath the water and gently rubbed the soap onto it, being careful not to further aggravate it. He moved along the length of the cut, not back and forth to prevent the cut from opening and bleeding even more. Thranduil’s breath caught when he watched this, making it hard for him to swallow. Bard took such good care of him. He could barely fathom it. Bard put Thranduil’s wrist back under the water to rinse away the soap, then he turned off the tap and asked Thranduil for a clean towel. Bard dabbed Thranduil’s arm dry and then got out the so-called steri-strips.

“What are those for anyway?” Thranduil asked as Bard motioned for him to sit on the toilet seat.

“They’ll help keep the cut closed. It’ll heal better that way.”

So Thranduil held out his arm, letting Bard dab at it with cotton before applying the steri-strips. Thranduil didn’t watch what Bard did to his arm; instead, he kept his eyes on Bard’s face, watching how his forehead creased in concentration, how he chewed on his upper lip.

Bard rooted around in the cabinet again and returned with bandages and gauze.

“I am sorry, baby.” Thranduil murmured. “The day started out so well, too. I had such a good time at the tree farm today…”

“I did, too, babe. Almost done.” Bard glanced at Thranduil and offered a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He carefully wrapped the bandage around Thranduil’s wrist and then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Thranduil’s head.

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Bard looked at him with surprise.

 “When I do stupid shit like this, I don’t feel I deserve any form of kindness.”

Bard eased Thranduil up from the toilet seat, curling one arm around Thranduil’s back as he guided him back out into his bedroom. “Come, sit on the bed, doll.” Thranduil sat, clinging to Bard’s shirt with his right hand.

“Sit with me. Please?”

“Tell me what happened. How did a TV show lead to this?” Bard took a seat beside Thranduil and held his hand, thumb rubbing over Thranduil’s knuckles.

A voice inside Thranduil’s head told him to lie, to say anything to avoid rejection. His fear of abandonment was so strong that he almost listened to that voice. But the rational part of his brain urged honesty from his lips instead.

“It was Law and Order,” Thranduil swallowed, looking away from Bard.

“Yes…” Bard nodded, waiting for Thranduil to continue.

He tightened his grip on Bard’s hand, exhaling audibly. “It was a rape episode,” he forced the words out. “And I guess it triggered me…”

Bard winced, rubbing Thranduil’s hand. “Why didn’t you turn it off?”

“I don’t know. I’m a masochist, I guess. I wanted to test myself.” What he said was true, but hearing it aloud made no sense and he hoped Bard didn’t judge him for being such an utter fool.

The bed shifted as Bard moved closer to Thranduil and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. For a moment he just let Bard hold him, unsure if he needed to further explain himself. It felt good to be wrapped up in his boyfriend’s embrace. It soothed him, calming his mind. Eventually Bard spoke, whispering softly into his hair. “I take it this isn’t the first time this has happened.”

Thranduil pulled away so he could look at Bard’s face, gauge his expression. But it remained impassive, albeit a bit concerned. “You mean _this_?” He lifted his left arm, gesturing to his wrist.

Bard nodded. “On the phone you said you dealt with it before and, uh… the scars.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Thranduil apologized again. He didn’t know what else to do. Of course Bard noticed the plethora of scars etched upon his wrist. He’d have to be blind not to see it. Frankly, Thranduil was surprised he hadn’t noticed it sooner. But he’d done a good job of hiding it. Those scars shamed Thranduil, and he felt horrible that Bard now knew that what he’d done tonight wasn’t the first time.

_But maybe it will be the last time. Maybe you won’t ever do it again._

“Babe, you have to take better care of yourself. You need to stay away from shit that you know will trigger you. I hate to see my doll hurting.”

Thranduil nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek. Yes, he knew he’d worried Bard, and that made him hurt even more.

“Fucking TV is poison, doll. This just proves that.”

“I just overreacted,” Thranduil reasoned. It was his fault after all, he had to take responsibility. It was his decision to keep watching the damned show; no one forced him.

“I think it’s a very understandable reaction. You’ve been through hell, Thran. And exposing yourself to that show probably put a bunch of unwanted thoughts in your head.”

“Yeah, you’re right. And I can’t handle the thoughts.”

“So… you tried to kill yourself? God, doll. You have a son who loves you, and a best friend who would do anything for you…and me.”

“Bard,” Thranduil gulped. “I didn’t try to kill myself.”

“But you slit your wrist.”

“That doesn’t mean I was going to kill myself.” Thranduil sighed. Why did everyone always associate self harm with suicide? They were not the same thing. He had to make Bard understand. “I didn’t want to die; I just wanted to stop feeling.”

“You wanted to stop feeling?” Bard looked confused. He stared into the distance, as if contemplating Thranduil’s words. “But what you did…that’s gotta hurt, right? So, isn’t that feeling?”

“It’s a different sort of feeling. The physical pain numbs out the emotional pain.”

“So, a distraction, then? You don’t feel the emotional pain because the physical pain is harder to ignore?”

Thranduil nodded. “Yeah, exactly. I know how stupid it sounds.”

“Not stupid. I mean, it makes sense. But it just seems very…drastic.”

“Sometimes I don’t know how to handle my emotions, so the way I cope is…drastic, yes. And I know it’s not a healthy thing to do. It only makes me feel worse in the end, but in the moment, if only for a second, it helps.”

“Babe, I have to say, it scares me.” Bard grimaced, his mouth a tight line. Thranduil sighed and leaned back against the mountain of pillows on the bed, letting his hand pull away from Bard’s. “God, doll, I could have lost you.”

Again, Thranduil wanted to say that he wouldn’t have died, that he hadn’t cut deep enough for that, but those words never left his mouth. Instead, he apologized. He’d lost count of how many times he’d already said he was sorry. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.” He couldn’t look Bard in the eye, so he focused on a piece of hair he played with between his fingers.

“I don’t want to lose you, Thran.”

“So, you’re not pissed off?”

Bard’s eyes widened like saucers and he slid closer to Thranduil. He took Thranduil’s hand between both of his, holding it firmly. “Pissed off? No, doll, not at all. Never. Don’t you get it?” Bard shook his head, letting out a small self-deprecating chuckle. “You’re really gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”

“Say what? What are you talking about?” Thranduil searched Bard’s expression for a clue as to what he was talking about, but came up blank. “I’m worried you’re gonna come to the conclusion that this isn’t worth it…”

Bard continued to chuckle softly. It was a nervous sound. It made it hard for Thranduil to swallow and a pang of anxiety stabbed at his stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, doll,” Bard said, squeezing Thranduil’s hand. “But, um, what I’m trying to say is… well, I worry about you and I don’t want you to hurt yourself… because, I, um, I love you. So, please don’t laugh, okay?”

The pang in Thranduil’s stomach shot up into his throat, but it was no longer anxiety. It was a completely different feeling, a feeling Thranduil wasn’t sure was real. He glanced over at Bard, blinking slowly as if waking from a dream. His mouth fell open and he struggled to form words. “You…you… love me?”

Bard closed his eyes. “Go ahead, laugh.”

Thranduil’s lips tugged up into a wide grin and he put his hand over his heart. He couldn’t believe it. Bard loved him! “Bard,” Thranduil said softly, drawing Bard to open his eyes and look in his direction. He offered Bard a genuine smile, which Bard returned in kind. “I love you, too, baby.”

Shoving himself up from the pillows, Thranduil slid next to Bard and wrapped both arms strongly around Bard’s neck. Bard’s arms tightened around him, rubbing soothing circles upon his back. “Yeah?” Bard asked, a whisper in Thranduil’s ear.

“Yeah. Love you so much.” Thranduil replied, pressing a kiss to Bard’s cheek. “I never imagined you’d feel the same way, especially after what I did tonight.”

When they separated, Bard took Thranduil’s arm and lightly kissed his bandaged wrist. “Why do you think I’m so scared, huh? I’d finally got my head around the fact that some beautiful, rich artist wants me around for something more than just my car fixing abilities, and thought that, wow, maybe this is actually for real, and then I see your wrist…and—”

“Baby, you know I’m sorry, right? Because I am. I’m so, so sorry.”

Bard exhaled. “Fuck, doll – I was so fucking scared.”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know. You didn’t do it to hurt me; you did it because you hurt. I get that now.”

“Yeah, and because I hurt, I indirectly hurt you. I wish I could just control myself.”

“I care about you, Thran, so much. You mean the world to me. And I’m just trying to understand you, yeah? I’m trying to understand why you did this. Was it just because of that television program triggered you, or is there more to it than that?”

“Well, yes, that TV show triggered me, but once I was worked up, I just…couldn’t regulate my emotions. I couldn’t come back down, so I did the only thing that I knew was sure to work. I needed a way to stop the negative thoughts, something to ground me and take away all the shit I was feeling.”

“So, can you tell me something?” Bard ventured. “Can you tell me what it is you’re dealing with?”

Thranduil’s foot began to tap and he looked away, closing his eyes and trying to find the courage to tell Bard the truth. He exhaled and busied himself by picking lint off his favourite fleece blanket. “Yeah. It’s only fair that I tell you. I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you, but I never knew how to bring it up before. I guess now is the perfect time.” Thranduil chuckled nervously. “Well…”

“It’s okay, babe.” Bard rubbed Thranduil’s hand encouragingly.

_Just say it. There’s no way out of it now. Say it._ “I have a mental illness.” He swallowed hard and continued picking lint off the blanket. “I wish I didn’t, but I do.

Bard tightened his grip on Thranduil’s hand, nodding his head, trying to process what Thranduil had just told him. “I understand. Just tell me what you need to tell me and we’ll go from there. If it’s too hard to talk about, you don’t have to. Just know that I would never judge you, doll.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what? The illness?”

“No. Of your reaction. I just keep thinking that you’ll want to leave me.”

“Thran, I don’t want to leave you. I just want to understand, okay?”

Thranduil nodded robotically and shifted back against the pillows again, pulling on Bard’s hand. “Baby, can you lay beside me?”

“Of course, love.” Bard slid up the bed, positioning himself beside Thranduil as he leaned back into the pillows, never once letting go of Thranduil’s hand. “So, tell me.”

Thranduil exhaled and snuggled into Bard’s chest for comfort. _Just tell him. Don’t be scared, everything will be fine. He won’t leave you. He wants to understand. He loves you. He said it himself. So just tell him. He deserves to know the truth about you._ “Well, I’m, uh…I’m borderline.”

Bard didn’t say anything for a moment. What was he thinking? Was he disgusted? Did he want to leave? “Borderline what? I’m not sure what that means.” He said at last.

“Borderline personality disorder.”

“Ah, so that’s the name, then. I’ve never heard of it, to be honest. Can you tell me what it means?” Bard snaked his arm behind Thranduil’s back, rubbing Thranduil’s shoulder absently.

“It’s complicated,” Thranduil sighed. How was he supposed to explain this to Bard without freaking him out in the process? It would be too much to take in at once; Thranduil knew that, and he did not want to overwhelm Bard. Because then Bard would leave. But Thranduil had to say something. The gentle rubbing of his shoulder urged him on. “Essentially, personality disorders are long term patterns of abnormal behavior.” He felt Bard nod. “And mine is based around instability. Unstable emotions, unstable relationships, unstable sense of identity…” Thranduil took a deep breath and cleared his throat; he was losing his voice.

“Meaning…you can’t keep an even keel?”

“Yeah, basically. I can show you stuff online. That might be easier to grasp than me explaining it poorly.”

“Yeah, sure, doll. That would help.”

So, Thranduil opened a website on his phone and handed the device to Bard. The page showed a list of diagnostic criteria as per the DSM-V, and clearly stated that at least five of the nine criteria must be met for diagnosis. As Bard looked over the information, Thranduil tried to steady his racing heart by taking deep breaths. His anxiety was building – it was as though he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Bard to realize that being with him just wasn’t worth the trouble.

“Which ones do you have?” Bard asked, drawing Thranduil from his worry.

“Hmm?”

“Of these nine criteria, which do you have? It says you need at least five.”

“All of them.”

“Wow, doll. I’m sorry. That’s a heavy load to bear.” Thranduil heard Bard swallow.

Yes, it was a heavy load, but Thranduil didn’t want Bard to pity him, or feel sorry for him. “It is what it is, babe.” He rubbed Bard’s arm. “I’m sorry you have to deal with me. There’s a lot more to it than just that list, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I can’t say I understand it all, but I’m willing to learn and I’ll do my research. There’s just one thing I worry about…”

“The impulsive sex?” Thranduil tried to laugh.

“Doesn’t seem like there’s any impulsive sex happening here,” Bard allowed a grin.

“Yet.”

Bard gave Thranduil’s shoulder a little squeeze and took a breath. “I’m worried I might make a mistake and do something that hurts you.”

“I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose.”

“What if I say the wrong thing, or don’t see something that I should?”

“I don’t know, baby…”

“What if I do something that makes you cut yourself? God, I’d feel like absolute shit.”

“That won’t happen,” Thranduil tried to assure Bard, almost as much as he tried to assure himself.

“What if I do something wrong and I offend you? Will you forget that I love you, or would you think that I don’t love you anymore?”

“Bard, please. You worry more than I do.”

“But, it’s a legitimate concern. I don’t want to hurt you, Thran.”

“I won’t forget that you love me. Sometimes, I might think that you don’t anymore, though. I’m sensitive, yes, so I get easily offended.”

Bard gulped. “So… I could possibly hurt you without even meaning to…”

Thranduil closed his eyes. With every word Bard spoke, it seemed as if a conclusion was drawing near. “You want to run away, don’t you? It’s always too much. That’s why we die alone; no one wants to deal with it.”

“No, no, no. I’m just trying to understand. I figure if I understand you as best as possible then maybe I can prevent a crisis. Is there anything you can do to help yourself? Anything I can do?”

“Well, I’m going back to therapy soon. I’m just waiting for their call to set up the appointment.”

“That’s good, doll, really good. How does it help? Do you just talk about stuff, or do some sort of exercises or something to help with the emotions?”

“Well, I haven’t been in a while, so I don’t know if there are new techniques, but basically, I’ll just be talking about my shit and getting a different opinion, learning to challenge my negative thoughts, reframe bad situations, and so on. Coping strategies, to stop the thoughts before they turn into emotions. Because those emotions are what turn into unhealthy actions. So everything would be just peachy if I could stomp those automatic negative thoughts before they grow into something terrible.”

“Ah, yes, that makes a lot of sense. If you don’t have the negative thought, then you won’t feel the emotions, which will stop you from hurting yourself.”

“Exactly. So that’s what I will most likely work on in therapy. It can be difficult though. The brain gets so used to doing things a certain way, so I’ll have to completely retrain myself. Neuroplasticity, is what they call it.”

“I won’t even pretend to know what that means,” Bard offered a light chuckle. “I like the sound of the coping strategies. Um, maybe they’d have coping strategies for me so I can help you?”

“They probably do.”

“I’m not trying to make a comparison here, but you know how they have programs for the families of people with addictions? Well maybe they have support groups or something to help families of people with borderline?”

Thranduil nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s a thing.”

“Then I’d feel more comfortable because I’d be able to learn the proper ways to help you without hurting you.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“I’m game, doll. As long as you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. That’s very kind of you to even be interested in such a thing.”

“It would help, yeah?”

“Yeah, I think it would.”

“Oh, and I just had a thought.”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking that maybe, if I accidentally do something to hurt you, you could, uh, use a safeword, to let me know that I’ve done something wrong. Otherwise, I may not know.”

A grin pulled at the corners of Thranduil’s lips. “A safeword, huh?”

“Is it a stupid idea?”

“No, not at all. I think it’s a great idea.”

“Yeah? So if I say something to offend you, or bring up a touchy topic, then you can let me know without actually having to tell me I’m being a huge dick.”

“You’re never a huge dick. I mean, you _have_ a huge dick, but you’re not one.” Thranduil chuckled.

“Ha, ha, doll, very funny. So what should our safeword be?”

Thranduil pondered for a moment. “Aardvark.”

“Aardvark,” Bard repeated. “I like that; it’s not a word I think I’ve ever said before. So if you say it, I’ll know exactly what it means.”

Thranduil nodded.

“Um, can I ask something else?”

“Sure.”

“If you go to therapy, will you get better?”

“Well, there’s no cure, only management. But, yes, I can improve and learn to deal with things.”

Bard hummed, the sound vibrating in Thranduil’s hair.

“I just have to work hard and try my best, because it’s not easy. I might have to go back on meds, since therapy can’t fix everything.”

“What do the meds do?”

“There are some for depression, some for anxiety. It will just help with my moods, make them easier to regulate since they won’t be all over the place.”

“If I had been here with you tonight, would I have been able to help? Turn off the TV, talk you down, something… Or would it have been worse if I’d been here?”

Humming, Thranduil considered. If Bard had been here, Thranduil probably never would’ve gotten to the mental state he had while he was alone. Being alone always made it worse. “I think it would’ve helped. It would have been a distraction. And I probably never would have watched that show to begin with, if you were here.”

“Is there something I could’ve done to make you…upset?”

“If you laughed at me, or made fun of me for being a big, old crybaby, and told me to suck it up…then yeah, it would’ve upset me. Borderlines are very sensitive to criticism. We take it as a personal attack and not just a simple comment. I get easily offended, even when I try to tell myself not to. It’s hard to control the thoughts.”

“Well, I would never laugh at you, or make fun of you, or tell you to suck it up. So, we’re safe there. Do you believe that, doll, that I’d never say those things? Because I don’t believe them.”

“I know,” Thranduil mumbled, cuddling closer to Bard, drawing patterns on Bard’s arm with his fingers. “You’re not like that. You’re not like…him.”

“Babe, not many people are like him. He was a fucking sadist and said those things to have power over you, to control you. I wouldn’t do that.”

“He enjoyed it, I think. Seeing me freak out, seeing me lose it.”

“Rest assured that I don’t want to see you lose it emotionally. But some day…there’s something I’d enjoy watching you lose.”

Thranduil chuckled. “My clothes?”

“After that,” Bard shifted, pressing at kiss on Thranduil’s head.

“My composure?”

“I’ve already seen you lose that, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. So not that. After that.”

“What else is there to lose?” Thranduil nuzzled his nose into the crook of Bard’s neck and littered butterfly kisses upon his boyfriend’s skin.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Such a fucking bastard.”

Bard turned, held Thranduil’s face in his hands and kissed Thranduil softly on the lips. “Yeah, but I’m _your_ fucking bastard,” he grinned.

Thranduil moaned and kissed Bard again, savoring the tenderness of it, the way his heart fluttered in his chest. “Mmm, yes. _Mine_.”

“How do you feel now, baby? I want to make sure you’re safe, because I need to get back to the children. They’re gonna wonder what’s going on.”

“I’m safe. I feel better, all thanks to my perfect lover.” He kissed Bard’s neck.

Bard stroked Thranduil’s hair and gave it a playful tug. “You sure, doll? You’ll be alright when I go?”

“I’m sure.”

“You always have me in here,” Bard whispered, placing a hand over Thranduil’s heart. “I’m always with you, so think of me when you’re feeling down, okay?”

Thranduil nodded and held onto Bard’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, baby. You were a wonderful doctor. A very sexy doctor, too.”

Bard snickered. “I can be whatever you like. And you’re very welcome.” He sobered and kissed Thranduil on the cheek. “Just promise me two things, yeah?”

“Yeah?”

“That you’ll do the therapy thing, and that you remember that I love you.”

“I promise, baby.”

“So please take care of yourself, because you’re important to me. Remember that day we played music? That was one of the best days of my life, so think of that when things are getting to you.” Bard grinned, pulling Thranduil up from the bed.

“That was such a wonderful day. I’ll think of it, and of you.”

Thranduil let Bard guide him out of his bedroom and together they walked down the stairs to the front door. They held each other for a few long moments before Bard pulled away reluctantly, sighing.

“I can’t wait until we do it again. And maybe play for the kids. I think they’d like it.” Bard spoke softly, brushing his thumb over Thranduil’s cheek.

“Soon, baby.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Whenever you want. I’m always ready and willing for you.”

“Oh, stop, you! You’re going to give me ideas.” Bard allowed a smirk and tugged on Thranduil’s hair again.

“Mmm, we can play with your ideas soon.”

“Fucker.” Bard chuckled, slipping on his boots and coat. “Time for me to go, babe.”

“Okay, thanks for tonight, Bard. It means a lot to me. You amaze me more and more every day.”

Bard grinned. “Don’t forget me, okay? Don’t forget that I love you.”

“I could never forget you.”

“Good. I’m always here.” He trailed a hand up Thranduil’s chest and held it over his heart, smiling – this time his smile reached his eyes.

Thranduil smiled back, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I love you so much, baby.” He kissed Bard on the lips, and opened the front door.

“Love you, too. Please, take care of my doll for me, okay?”

“Promise.”

“Okay, good. Sleep well, pretty doll.”

“Thanks. You, too. Sweet dreams.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Bard lingered in the door way before slowly making his way outside.

“‘Kay.” Thranduil blew a kiss as Bard got into his truck.

He waited, watching from the window as Bard’s truck disappeared out of view. He held his hand over his heart, and sighed. So many feelings rushed through him – exhilaration, contentment, gratitude, love. Those feelings were strong enough to silence any negativity. Those feelings provided nourishment to the good wolf, draining the life from the evil wolf.

A weight had been lifted from Thranduil’s shoulders. Bard knew the truth about him and didn’t reject him.

Thranduil felt lighter.

He went up to bed with a smile on his face and a pleasant warmth in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diagnostic Criteria can be found [here ](http://www.spectrumbpd.com.au/pages/about-borderline-personality-disorder-bpd/formal-diagnostic-criteria-for-bpd.php)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying out this whole shorter chapter thing so I can post every week. 
> 
> It's still taking me forever to get to Christmas, though lol
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

When Bard arrived home, he was hounded by Sigrid. He was attacked by a series of questions, and although his daughter was polite about it, Bard was not in the mood to have to explain himself. She asked him where he had been and why he had been gone for so long and he didn’t want to lie to her so he did his best to shrug off her curiosity. He told her a little white lie – Thranduil was having car trouble so Bard went over to help and then stayed for tea. It was innocent enough. He couldn’t tell Sigrid the truth about why he’d gone to see Thranduil at this hour.

After he escaped Sigrid, he went up to bed and did some research on his phone. God, the more he read the more worried about Thranduil he became. His throat tightened when he thought of all that had transpired tonight. And Thranduil’s wrist. That sent a tremor of anxiety through Bard’s core. He tried to grasp the concept that Thranduil experienced unstable emotions, emotions that could grow to catastrophic proportions, but Bard would never understand exactly what had been going on in Thranduil’s head that drove him to cause himself physical pain. It was a distraction, but what sort of emotional turmoil was he distracting himself from? How great was Thranduil’s mental pain that he had to do resort to something so drastic to make himself feel better? It was probably much worse than Bard imagined. And it scared him beyond words.

While reading, a few unsettling key words stood out to him.

_Manipulation._

_Violence._

_Lying._

Was Thranduil really capable of doing such things? Bard tried to look at it as a worst case scenario, that it was highly unlikely that Thranduil was prone to such behavior. Thranduil wouldn’t really manipulate Bard, would he? He wouldn’t lie and purposely hurt Bard.

One website Bard stumbled upon read loud and clear: _stay away from people with borderline personality disorder; do not engage in romantic relationships with them, it isn’t worth the pain it will cause you._

It said that borderline men are dangerous and must be avoided. It went on to say that they were always narcissistic and that they lacked empathy.

Bard read through the list of traits that this website included for borderline men with nervous interest. It was hard to find information on men, most of the information was centered on females with BPD. Finding information on males was more of a challenge, as not as many men were diagnosed.

The list of traits made Bard’s head spin with uncertainty. Impulsivity, lying, stalking, passive aggression, lack of empathy, poor self-worth, substance abuse, cheating, rageful outbursts, depression, suicidal ideation, inability to handle difficult emotions, self-harm, physical violence, rebound relationships, anxiety and OCD issues, extreme jealousy, grandiosity, control issues, emotional blackmail such as suicide threats, eating disorders, dissociation, insatiable need for attention, codependency, an incapacity to want you unless they can’t have you…

Bard sighed, dragging a hand over his face. The next line made Bard swallow hard, the clicking in the back of his throat loud in the stillness of his bedroom.

_Borderline males present as commitment-phobes and sex addicts._

Sex addicts…

Is that why Thranduil was interested in Bard? For sex? Was that why he’d been so flirty when they’d only just met? Bard’s worry began to spiral again, and he struggled to wrestle it down. He couldn’t believe everything he read. Especially from a website that seemed to be so anti-borderline. It had to be a biased opinion. Thranduil didn’t just want Bard for sex. He couldn’t.

_A borderline is incapable of sustaining any type of emotion, including love._

_Nobody can make it work with a borderline._

Bard couldn’t read anymore. He felt sick to his stomach.

He quickly clicked out of that website. Fuck that; he didn’t want to believe it. He’d already read the Wikipedia page on BPD twice now, so in an effort to regain his sense of calm, he closed Safari and opened his text messages. He looked over the messages he and Thranduil had exchanged, scrolling up until he reached the beautiful picture of Thranduil lying on the bed.

It was past one o’clock in the morning. Bard’s eyes grew heavy and dry, and kept falling shut despite his best efforts to keep them opened. He plugged his phone in and placed it on the bedside table, then nestled into the covers.

Sleep claimed him the moment his head hit the pillow.

Waking up the next morning proved difficult. Bard didn’t normally allow himself to stay up later than midnight so he was feeling the effects of little sleep. At least he didn’t have to worry about getting the children ready for school or getting himself ready for work. The clock on his bedside table read six-fifty-three. His internal clock awoke him much earlier than he needed to be up, but now that he was awake he found he couldn’t settle back into sleep even if he tried. So he snared his mobile and did a bit more research about Thranduil’s disorder. He wanted to gain as much knowledge as possible, wanted to know all there was to know so he could be a better support to his boyfriend. But everything he read only seemed to bog his mind down with unnecessary worry.

He had to remember that Thranduil had an illness; he didn’t choose to be the way he was. It was no different than something like diabetes. He didn’t want it; it just was. And there was no changing it. But that didn’t mean Thranduil was a bad person, only that he experienced bad moods, and had a bad childhood. Bard realized that the way he was brought up had impacted his development. He had been damaged. But there was always hope. Bard would never give up on the person he loved.

He wanted to send Thranduil a good morning text but felt the hour was still too early so he put it off until nine a.m. Then, he sent the simple message, hoping that today Thranduil would be feeling at least a little better than he had last night.

Much to Bard’s surprise, Thranduil messaged him back immediately. A smile played on Bard’s lips as he chatted with his boyfriend. He felt better knowing that Thranduil was in better spirits today. That made it easier for Bard to get through the rest of his day.

Bard found himself in the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry to see what he could put together for breakfast. He recalled the French toast Thranduil had made for him the first night they’d spent together. Bard was sure the kids would like that. He’d paid close attention to the steps Thranduil took to make the French toast, so he was sure he could recreate it himself. He took out the bread, eggs and milk. He made a mixture of the milk and eggs and added a little cinnamon, the way Thranduil had. Then he went to work dunking and coating the bread in the mixture and frying them up in a hot pan. He’d made enough for himself and the children and put them in the oven on low heat to keep them warm while he waited for the children to awake.

He didn’t have to wait long. The children must have smelled something cooking, because it didn’t take long before Bard heard all three of them scrambling down the stairs.

“Da, what did you make?” Tilda asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she entered the kitchen.

“French toast,” Bard replied, giving his youngest a hug as she approached.

“Da made French toast!” Bain said, a look of mild shock on his face. “You’ve never made French toast in your life.”

“Nonsense,” Bard chuckled. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Morning, Da,” Sigrid said, a tired smile pulling at her mouth. She set her phone down on the counter and began to set the table, Bain joining in to help moments later.

“Morning, honey. How did you all sleep last night?”

“Good!” Tilda answered, searching through the fridge and setting the juice on the table. “Where’s the milk?”

“Right here.” Bard passed her the milk which she placed in the center of the table.

“I’m tired,” Sigrid mumbled. “But I was thinking of going out with friends to the movies today. If that’s okay with you, Da...”

“Of course. And you, Bain? How was your sleep?”

“He didn’t get much of it,” Sigrid chuckled.

“Hey! I didn’t stay up that late,” Bain retorted.

“Video games?” Bard guessed.

“I could hear the beeping and booping all night,” Sigrid lamented, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Bain waved her off, pouring himself a glass of milk.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Tilda said.

“Of course you didn’t, you were out like a light.” Sigrid said as she helped Bard get the French toast out of the oven and onto plates.

“I was tired from all the excitement yesterday. I hope I can see Legolas again soon.”

“So you had a good time?” Sigrid asked her, placing plates of their breakfast at the table.

“Yes, I had such a good time. Legolas is really fun and he has so many toys. And Thran is really pretty. I like his hair.”

“Pretty?” Bain’s eyebrows went up.

“He has really long hair. It’s so soft and shiny.”

“Only two pieces?” Bain grumbled looking at the plate Bard set in front of him in exasperation.

“Start with two, kiddo. You can always have more after.” Bard said, taking his usual seat at the table.

“What does Thran look like?” Sigrid pressed, her voice seeping with curiosity. “I want to see what Da’s boyfriend looks like.”

“Sig—” Bard warned, but was cut off by his son.

“So he is your boyfriend, then?” Bain’s eyes pinned Bard to the chair.

But Bard didn’t have a chance to reply before Tilda opened her mouth.

“Yes, he is! Da told me.”

“Why am I the last to know everything?!” Bain hollered, a mock-offended look on his face.

“Because you’re the most likely to disapprove,” Sigrid said with a nod of her head.

“Says who?” Bain shot back, shoving a forkful of French toast into his mouth.

“Says everyone.”

“He’s really nice,” Tilda added. “He let me put the angel on the tree. Ma never let me do that. She thought I would mess it up.” Tilda made a face.

“Well you _did_ ruin it that one year.” Bain attested.

“I was four years old, Bain! Don’t be rude!”

“Guys,” Bard interrupted. “Be nice to each other, please. And yes, Bain, Thran and I are seeing each other. Does that bother you?”

Bard hadn’t wanted to broach the subject, but here he was, confessing everything. He hoped Bain would appreciate his honesty. He already knew Tilda approved of his relationship with Thranduil, and Sigrid seemed to be fine with it. It was Bain’s reaction that worried him most. He was unsure of how his son would feel about his father being in a romantic relationship with a man.

“Nah,” Bain shrugged. “It’s fine. I mean, I don’t know him, but he did give me all that awesome art stuff. So, so far he’s cool in my books. As long as he’s not some lunatic hell-bent on ruining our lives and stealing our souls.”

Sigrid snorted. “You’ve been playing too many video games.”

“I agree with Sig,” Bard chuckled. “He’s not going to steal our souls.”

“Do you have a picture of him?” Sigrid asked, stabbing her fork into a piece of French toast. “Really good French toast, by the way, Da. Where’d you learn how to make it?” She gave him a pointed look, as if she already knew the answer to her own question.

Bard shot a playful smile back at her. “Thanks, Sig. And yes, I have a picture of him on my camera, which I forgot in the car and don’t feel like going to get right now.”

“Did he teach you how to make French toast?” She pushed, a mischievous grin curling her lips.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“And you don’t have a picture of him on your phone?”

The only picture of Thranduil he had on his phone was not one meant for the viewing pleasure of children. It was meant for Bard and Bard alone. He fought back a smirk and shook his head. “No, but I took pictures of all of us on his phone so I could ask him to send some of the pictures.”

“With Winnie!” Tilda clapped cheerfully.

They were interrupted by the sound of Bard’s phone ringing.

“I bet that’s him now,” Bain chuckled, elbowing Sigrid.

“Say hi to Thran and Legolas for me, Da!” Tilda chirped as Bard got up to retrieve his phone.

He took it to the living room and looked at the caller ID, his smile fading. It wasn’t Thranduil.

It was the police station.

 

***

By morning the evil wolf had been washed away like a message in a bottle being cast out to sea. But Thranduil knew it still lingered, hiding out in the depths of his mind, always waiting to resurface. All it would take was one good, hearty meal of negativity and the evil wolf would wash back to shore to reign once again.

He had to permanently starve that motherfucker.

While showering, Thranduil’s wrist stung as if mocking him, laughing harshly in his face.

_Why did you do it? You’re so fucking stupid. Will you ever learn? This is the kind of shit that drives people away._

He fought the thoughts, letting them wash away like the water that rolled off his back and down the drain. At least he’d come to his senses long enough to call Bard. It could have been much, much worse. He could’ve sent himself to the hospital like he had not long after Emilia’s death. Those scars still haunted him. He examined them as he carefully rinsed himself under the warm water. They were only a faint translucent shade of white now, but it wasn’t hard to remember how they’d looked when he’d created them. The wounds had been long slivers, running up and down the length of his wrist, tracing along his veins, cozying up beside his tendons. Gashes of red burst behind his eyelids. He realized that the cut from last night really wasn’t all that bad in comparison to what he could have done, what he’d done previously.

He tried not to feel guilty.

Once he finished in the shower, he removed the steri-strips Bard had so carefully secured on his wrist, holding the cut together. Thankfully, Bard had been thoughtful enough to leave behind extras. So, Thranduil replaced the old soggy ones with fresh ones and re-bandaged his wrist.

Then, he dried his hair and got dressed. Of course, he had to choose a long-sleeved t-shirt. What would Legolas think if he saw the bandage? It wasn’t something Thranduil wanted to find out.

_Just remember not to roll up your sleeves._

After breakfast, Thranduil and Legolas lounged on the sofa, Legolas watching morning cartoons and Thranduil looking over pictures of the house on his phone. His phone chimed in his hand.

A text from Bard.

[From: Bard] 9:04am – Good morning, beautiful doll. I hope you’re feeling better today. Remember that I love you. <3

Thranduil smiled.

[To: Bard] 9:05am – Morning, sweetest lover. I’m feeling much better today. I want to thank you again for doing what you did last night. I love you so much <3

[From: Bard] 9:06am – Don’t thank me, doll. I did it because I care about you, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

[To: Bard] 9:06am – I don’t plan on making you do it again. I made a promise to my perfect lover that I would take care of his doll, remember?

[From: Bard] 9:07am – I’m glad you’re sticking to your promise. What’re you up to today?

[To: Bard] 9:07am – going to see the house soon with Legs :)

[From: Bard] 9:08am – Oohhhh the big ass mansion, yes I remember lol

[To: Bard] 9:08am – lol yes, the big ass mansion. Are you working today?

[From: Bard] 9:09am – nope! Off work until after Christmas :D

[To: Bard] 9:09am – omg that’s great. Maybe we can see each other before Christmas then? Because it’s highly unlikely that I’ll have a chance to see you Christmas day. Hal and his mom are coming over. It’s going to be loud up in here lol

[From: Bard] 9:11am – lol I can only imagine what Hal’s mom is like. I’ll be with my parents and the kids on xmas day, so I’d like to see you before that. Maybe on the 23rd? Bain mentioned going to a friends for a video game marathon/sleepover that day

[To: Bard] 9:13am – that sounds good. Maybe the little ones would like to have a sleepover, too?

[From: Bard] 9:14am – I’m sure Tilda would love that. At your place? I can bring it up and see what she has to say

[To: Bard] 9:14am – yes, at my place. And maybe we could have an adult sleepover…

[From: Bard] 9:15am – you’re putting ideas in my head again, doll

[To: Bard] 9:15am – good ;)

[From: Bard] 9:15am – you insatiable bastard lol I gotta go now babe. Breakfast. I’ll talk to you later, okay?

[To: Bard] 9:16am – okay, lover. I’ll text you later to let you know what the house was like.

[From: Bard] 9:16am – sounds good, doll. I love you <3

[To: Bard] 9:17am – I love you, too <3

Thranduil set down his phone, staring blankly ahead at the TV, unable to wipe the goofy smile off his face. Legolas looked over at him and chuckled under his breath.

“Bard?” Legolas quirked a brow.

Thranduil nodded.

His phone rang. He snared it quickly, wondering why Bard was calling him.

But it wasn’t Bard. It wasn’t Hal, either.

It was a name he didn’t recognize, but he had an idea of who it might be – the therapist.

He didn’t want to talk in front of Legolas, so he headed for the stairs before answering the phone.

As awkward as he felt initially, by the end of the phone call he’d felt none of that. The woman he talked to – the receptionist – had a kind voice, which made it easier to open up and tell her the reason behind his referral. He knew that his doctor had sent along his medical file, so they were not completely in the dark about his issues, but he figured they would like to hear it from him, gauge his willingness. And after last night, Thranduil was more than willing; he was eager. He needed therapy, needed to learn healthy coping strategies. He wanted this. He didn’t want to continue hurting the people who loved and cared about him. He knew it would not be easy, but he was prepared to do whatever it took.

So, he forced himself to open up and tell the receptionist all the information he thought would be helpful while being as brief as possible. He wasn’t about to drone on and on to the poor receptionist. He’d save the heavy stuff for the meeting with the actual therapist.

He was given an appointment on the next available day. Next Monday. Just three days after Christmas.

Thranduil felt grateful for getting an appointment so soon, but the feeling was undercut with fear, nauseating fear. He’d have to regurgitate his past, lay it all out on the table before him and try not to cringe, or cry, or breakdown in front of a complete stranger. That was what worried him most. That he would be judged, criticized, just for being honest. That was the worst kind of rejection, the kind that stung the most and left the deepest wound.

But he’d worry about that when the time came. For now, he was pleased that he’d scheduled the appointment. He was moving in the right direction, and despite his perpetual struggle with self-worth, he couldn’t help but be a little proud of himself.

 

***

They were greeted by the elegant wooden staircase framed with beautiful iron balustrades. The grandeur of such an entrance left Thranduil speechless. He gazed around trying to take everything in. It looked much more splendid in person than it had in photographs online.

Legolas ran ahead, pointing to a floor length window which housed the wine room.

“Oh, my god, Ada! Look at this wine room!” He absently wandered, talking aloud. “And, oh – look at this dining room! And through here is the kitchen!”

Thranduil grinned and let his son explore on his own while the real estate agent spoke with him briefly. She urged Thranduil to look through the house at his own pace and then they could reconnect once he was finished. She let him know she would be around to go over any questions he had and explain the features of the house afterwards.

So, Thranduil followed Legolas into the kitchen, taking in all the sights around him. He particularly liked the way the stairs broke off in two directions, and the wall between them was the perfect place for a large piece of art.

The kitchen welcomed him. It was bright and spacious with granite countertops, a beautiful backsplash and marble flooring. Adjacent to the kitchen was a smaller auxiliary kitchen and the butler pantry, and past that was the mudroom. Thranduil took his time looking at everything, taking in all the details each room had to offer. In the other direction, just past the kitchen, was the eating area which led to the great room. There was a wet bar, a stunning fireplace and cathedral ceilings complete with rafters.

Thranduil chuckled to himself. Now Hal’s joke about scarfing from the rafters would make sense. Thranduil could hear it now. _Oh my god, Thran, don’t asphyxiate yourself! We don’t want to find you hanging from the rafters with a boner!_

He snapped a photo and sent it to Hal with the caption, _for all your scarfing needs_.

Next, he checked out the office, adorned with wood paneled walls and built-in cabinetry and shelves. The room gave off a warm, cozy vibe thanks to the color of the wood. Thranduil liked it. It calmed him.

Then he went into the living room at the front of the house on the opposite side of the dining room and wine room. He visualized his own furniture in the room, smiling widely as he imagined how the room would come to life once he decorated it.

He found the elevator which Legolas was staring at in awe.

“An elevator, Ada! In the house!”

“For when we’re too lazy to use the stairs,” Thranduil commented, chuckling. He snapped another picture and this time sent it to Bard.

The caption read: _I’ve always wanted to have sex in an elevator._

There was another set of stairs and a secondary entrance to the house. All things that were really unnecessary, but Thranduil found that he enjoyed the splendor all the same. It was more than he had ever dreamed of for himself. He couldn’t deny the feeling it set to light inside of his chest. It was something he could take pride in, something he knew he’d worked hard for.

He fucking deserved it.

Legolas deserved it.

They looked over all the features of the basement, Legolas jumping for joy when he took in the sight of the soundproof theatre. There was a gym in the basement as well, and a recreation room. Even a room which had a tanning bed in it. Thranduil laughed. He would never use a tanning bed. He’d burn up like a lobster in a pot of boiling water. He looked better pale anyway.

Before too long, they were upstairs looking at all the bedrooms. Thranduil fell in love with the master bedroom and the exquisite ensuite bathroom. Every detail screamed luxury. It was almost too much to take in, so much more extravagant than his current house.

There was a niche with a fireplace and two lounging chairs. He could picture himself sitting there on a cold night with Bard, reading or talking over a cup of tea. There were two walk-in closets. One for him and… one for Bard. A door led outside to a balcony which overlooked the backyard. He thought of lazy Sunday mornings with Bard, sitting out on the balcony, watching the children run around, laughing and playing in the yard. Everything about the room made him think of Bard, of what living with his boyfriend would be like. It felt good to dream.

Legolas bounded towards him, exclaiming wildly that he’d found the perfect room. So, Thranduil followed him, letting Legolas gesticulate as he explained where he would put his bed and his dresser and all his toys. It made Thranduil happy to see his son in such great spirits.

The house was exactly what they both needed. A change, for the better.

When he’d rejoined with the real estate agent, they strolled through each room of the house again. She explained in detail the abundance of unique features the house had to offer, but Thranduil barely listened. He already knew he wanted it. He was going to buy the house; he didn’t need the real estate agent to try to sell him on it.

His mind was made up.

They discussed payment options as Thranduil read and signed all the necessary documents. He hoped he hadn’t sounded too haughty when he informed the real estate agent that he could pay for the house with cash alone. But that fact only made the process easier. He wouldn’t have to worry about a mortgage; he could own the house without the financial burden. So he made plans to meet the agent back at her office to finalize the payment.

Legolas waited for the paperwork to be complete, bouncing his legs impatiently on the leather armchair he sat upon.

When they finally left, Thranduil turned to his son, smiling.

“The house is ours, leaf.”

“Really? Are we going to live there now?” Legolas asked, eyes brightening.

“Not right yet, silly boy. We need to wait for all the paperwork to be approved, and then they real estate agent will call us back. And we’ll need to get movers in to help us transport everything. But we can start packing now. We won’t be in the new house before Christmas, though. We should be ready to move at the start of the new year.”

“Yes! I can’t wait. I love the house. It’s so big!”

“You made a good choice when you picked your room.”

“Are you still going to paint a mural and do the lights in the walls?”

“Of course! And how about a tree house bed?”

“Really?! You’d build it?” Legolas looked shocked.

Thranduil chuckled. “I would try, and maybe I could get some help.” He thought of Bard. Bard seemed like the type to know how to build things.

“You’re the best, Ada!”

“No, leaf. You are. Oh, I wanted to ask you something. How would you like to have a sleepover with Tilda?”

“A sleepover? Really? When?”

“I talked to Bard this morning and he suggested Wednesday.”

“That’s in two days. Yes, can we? That would be so much fun! We could stay up late and eat junk food and watch movies!”

Thranduil grinned as he pulled the car into the driveway and then into the garage. “So, you’d like that, then?”

“Yes!”

“Then I’ll have to let Bard know. I’m sure Tilda would enjoy it, too.”

When they got back into the house, Thranduil went up to his room, leaving Legolas in the living room to watch Home Alone. Lying on the bed, he pulled out his phone and called Bard.

“Hey, doll,” Bard greeted.

“Hey, baby,” Thranduil stretched out on the bed, rolling over onto his back.

“Got your picture. An elevator in the house, huh?” Thranduil could hear the smirk in Bard’s voice.

“Mmhmm,” Thranduil hummed. “I bought the house.”

“You did? That’s great, Thran!”

“Yes, I’m excited. So is Legolas. He’s the reason I’m calling, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I asked him about the sleepover with Tilda. He’s all for it.”

“I talked to Til, too. She practically bounced off the walls,” Bard laughed. “So, Wednesday, then?”

“Yup. Wednesday. And, um, what about the…adult sleepover?” Thranduil couldn’t keep his lips from tugging into a perverse smirk.

“Well, Bain will be out at his friend’s house for the night, and Sigrid has been talking about plans with her friends, so maybe she will be out, too – which would be ideal, as I’d rather not leave her home alone, even though I know she’s old enough to handle herself.”

“Yes, I understand.” Thranduil twirled a piece of hair between his fingers, ignoring the itch of the bandage beneath his sleeve.

“So, let’s hope that she will make plans, too, so I can spend the night with my beautiful doll.”

“It’s been a while since we had a proper cuddle.”

“I know. I need you in my arms.”

Thranduil let the warmth of those words settle over his heart. God, it felt good to hear Bard talk like that. “So do I,” he purred, voice lowering, humming in the silence.

“I can’t deny how much I want you, babe.”

“Yeah? You want me? In what way?”

“In all ways. However you’d let me have you.”

“How about in my bed. It’s been a while since I last felt your skin pressed against mine.”

“Doll,” Bard groaned, the sound deep, rough with want and desire. “You can’t say things like that.”

“And why not?” Thranduil teased, enjoying how easily Bard could come undone with the right words.

“Because you’re very hard to resist.”

“You don’t have to resist.”

“It’s the middle of the day and the children are here, so right now I have to be good.”

“Well, you don’t have to be good on Wednesday night. There’s no reason to resist then.”

“Baby, you’re such a fucking bastard.”

“I know. But so are you.”

A noise sounded on Bard’s end, and he let out a sigh. “Sorry, Thran. I gotta go. Bain is having issues with the video game console and the last thing we want is for him to break it in his frustration.”

“Alright, love. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full. Text or call me later, when you find out for sure if our sleepover is on, okay?”

“Yup, will do. Oh, and doll, can you do me a favour? Could you send some of those pictures of us from the tree farm?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll do that now.”

“Thanks. Love you, doll.”

“Love you, too. Talk to you soon. Bye.”

“Bye,” Bard breathed, the syllable a caress upon Thranduil’s skin, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

He ended the call and the tension in his body slowly ebbed. He rolled over onto his stomach, painfully aware of the hardness between his legs. Fucking Bard, riling him up like this! He took a few steadying breaths as he sent Bard the photos from yesterday. Then he headed back downstairs.

 

***

Tuesday passed uneventfully. Bard spent the day with the children, doing nothing but relaxing at home.

Bain had somehow convinced Sigrid to play a racing video game with him, so Bard sat on the sofa in the living room watching them. He looked through the pictures that Thranduil had sent him from the tree farm, a smile on his face.

“What’s that face for, Da?” Sigrid asked, setting the controller down when Bain had beaten her once again.

“Oh, just looking at the pictures from yesterday.”

“You still haven’t shown us what he looks like!” Sigrid shuffled over on her hands and knees to sit by Bard’s feet. “Let’s see!”

“Okay, okay. If you must,” Bard sighed. He found the picture of Thranduil, Tilda and Legolas posing with one of the goats. He held his phone out to Sigrid as Bain sidled up alongside them.

“Let me see,” Bain grabbed for the phone.

“Hold on!” Sigrid batted his hands away. “Oohhhh,” she drawled, a big smile creeping onto her face. “Da! Oh my god! He’s like a supermodel! Where did you find him? He’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“Oh, god!” Bain groaned, laughing. “He’s gorgeous, is he? Let me see!”

“I’m looking, Bain!”

Bard’s face went red; he could feel it. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. Bain moved over beside Sigrid, crowding her space so he could get a look at the picture, too.

“This is his son?” Sigrid asked. “He’s such a little cutie! Aw, Da!” She pat Bard’s knee, grinning before she looked up at Bard.

Bard nodded, finding his voice. “Yes, that’s Legolas.”

“Look at that hair!” Bain exclaimed.

“It’s so pretty. Tilda was right about how long it is.”

“It’s like he’s from one of those eighties hair bands. How old is he?”

“He’s twenty-nine.”

“Ooo,” Bain’s eyes went wide. “Six years younger than you, Da. How old is his kid?”

“Nine.” Bard replied, feeling like he was being interrogated. But he figured a little healthy dose of curiosity was normal.

“He’s extremely attractive,” Sigrid continued.

Bain stuck out his tongue in a gagging gesture. “Ugh, Sig! Stop being such a girl!”

“I bet Da thinks he’s extremely attractive, too. So it’s not just me ‘being a girl’!”

With a shake of his head, Bard snatched his phone back. “Okay, you’ve seen him, now you can get back to your game.”

Bain snorted out a laugh and Sigrid fixed Bard with a big smile. “He really is good looking, Da. Good job.”

“Yes, Sig. I know, I know.”

Thankfully, no one said anymore on the topic. Sigrid and Bain continued their game and Bard was happy to hear that Sigrid planned to go stay with a friend tomorrow night. She knew that Bard would be going over to Thranduil’s with Tilda for the night. Bain knew as well.

The last time Bard had spent the night at Thranduil’s, the children had been with his parents and were unaware that their father had spent the night with his boyfriend. Now they knew. Bard didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t know if it meant anything. But he worried about it nonetheless. He didn’t want them to get ideas. And they _were_ old enough to get ideas. Tilda, on the other hand, was too young to know of the physical aspects of relationships.

Sitting in front of the television, Bard’s thoughts lapsed. He hadn’t told Thranduil about his visit to the police station yesterday. He almost pretended like it hadn’t happened. He didn’t want to upset Thranduil. He didn’t want to strike the match that would inevitably start an inexorable fire.

It’s not that the interview was all that bad, it’s just that Bard worried if he told Thranduil it may trigger him and send him into a downward spiral. Like the other night. Bard wanted to do everything in his power to prevent that.

Investigator Dylan Fundin had been nice enough. It was the other officer that irked Bard. He asked uncomfortable questions.

_What is the nature of your relationship with the victim?_

_Were you involved in a sexual relationship with him before the events of that day?_

_How does he like it? Does he like it rough?_

_Has he ever asked you to engage in rape play? Is that something he’s into?_

Bard had told the truth, that no, he was not in a sexual relationship, or even a romantic relationship with Thranduil at the time of the assault. They were only friends, getting to know each other. He did admit that their relationship had evolved since then, but that, no, he had no idea how Thranduil liked it. And no, Thranduil never mentioned rape play and in Bard’s opinion, it didn’t seem to be something Thranduil was interested in.

Despite his calm demeanor during the interview, the questions had rattled him. That’s why he hadn’t told Thranduil about it. It was something he’d rather mention in person, where he could gauge Thranduil’s reaction and attend to it properly. Over the phone was too impersonal, and if Thranduil were to be negativity impacted by it, Bard would have no way of diffusing the situation.

So, tomorrow he would bring it up. Briefly and casually.

Wednesday rolled around. Bard spent the day tidying the house and watching old films with the children. By early afternoon, he’d dropped Sigrid and Bain off at their friends’ houses for the evening.

Back at home, he helped his youngest daughter get packed for her sleepover with Legolas. She packed an outfit for tomorrow, her favourite unicorn stuffed animal, a fuzzy red blanket, her pillow and a few toys.

Bard absently wondered what he should pack. He didn’t really need that much. Just a change of clothes for the morning.

And his camera.

He took a shower and got changed into fresh clothes, then sat on his bed, drying his hair with a towel.

He looked at the picture Thranduil had sent him last weekend - lying in bed, naked, with such a seductive expression twisting his features into something predatory, otherworldly. It was like nothing Bard had ever seen. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to have sex with Thranduil. He wanted it bad. It was hard to resist. It had been over four years now since he’d last had sex. Madison never wanted to do it. She called Bard an animal on several occasions when he asked for sex. It was never mutual, he always felt like he had to beg. And that only made him feel worse. Like he was disgusting in her eyes. Like he truly was an animal that wanted to rut with a human. And blow jobs were out of the questions. He hadn’t had a blow job in over eight years, since before Tilda was born. Madison thought it was a degrading act and wouldn’t lower herself to do it. She didn’t want to bring Bard pleasure. Even when they had sex, she would get pissed off if he came first. And usually he did; usually she didn’t even orgasm at all. That made Bard feel like there was something wrong with him. That he couldn’t please his wife, that he was flawed. In the last years of their marriage she would scarcely give him hand jobs without putting up a fuss. And then if Bard did attempt to masturbate to relieve the tension, she would get jealous. What the fuck was he supposed to do? So, he’d gotten used to getting nothing and expecting nothing. Over the years, he’d come to the conclusion that he was undesirable and he could never bring pleasure to another human being.

But Thranduil was different.

As desirable and wanted as Thranduil made Bard feel, he still worried that he would do the wrong thing, and push Thranduil into something he didn’t truly want. It was difficult to shake all those years of Madison’s reluctance and revulsion from his system. It was etched into him, making it almost impossible to believe that anyone would ever want to pleasure him again. It was even more impossible to believe that he could bring pleasure to another person. But, that one night he’d spent alone with Thranduil seemed to chip away at his old beliefs. He’d witnessed Thranduil’s face in the throes of passion. He’d seen just how utterly consumed Thranduil had looked, head lolling to the side, pupils dilated, mouth half open, gasping in short breaths. That was Bard’s doing.

He couldn’t be as undesirable as he used to believe.

 

***

“Oh my god, bitch! You’re having a _sleepover_ with Bard?!” Hal hollered, putting extra emphasis on the word sleepover. Thranduil could see the devilish grin on his face.

“Yes, Hal. We’re having a sleepover. But don’t get any ideas. He’s bringing Tilda so she can spend the night with Legs.”

“Aw, a sweet little family get-together!”

“Are you gonna help me with these cake pops or not?” Thranduil quirked a brow, hands on his hips.

“The cake is in the oven, Thran. There’s nothing to do but wait for it.”

“You can make the coating.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll do it, since you have no idea!” Hal took out a large glass bowl, opened the bag of pink chocolate bits and poured them in. “We do have to wait until the balls are formed, you know. There’s no point in melting this chocolate until we’re ready to use it.”

“Right. I knew that.”

“Now,” Hal fixed Thranduil with a pointed stare, eyes bulging. “Tell me how things are with Bard.”

“Things are good. He, uh, he told me—”

“He told you what?” Hal cut Thranduil off, a big smirk on his face.

Thranduil rolled his eyes, checking the cake in the oven and poking it with a metal cake-tester. “He told me he loves me.”

“Oh my god, Thran!” Hal’s hands flew up to his chest. “That is so sweet! And what did you say?!”

“I told him the same thing, that I love him, too.” Thranduil said, trying to keep his tone flippant, despite the giddy feeling that gathered in his chest. He took the cake from the oven and set it on the stove top.

“Thran! This is such good news. And you got the house, and you’re going to have a sleepover with him and his daughter! Oh, things are going well for you, then. I’m so happy.”

“Yes, things are going well,” Thranduil nodded.

Unbidden, the thoughts of Sunday night flashed in his mind – his breakdown, the knife, his mistake, calling Bard… He hadn’t told Hal about that yet. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“What’s that look for then?” Hal pressed, opening the jar of Betty Crocker frosting and giving it a big sniff.

“Nothing,” Thranduil dismissed, swiping the frosting from Hal and waving his finger in his friend’s face. “Don’t stick your nose in it.”

Before too long, they had the cake crumbled in a bowl and added some of the frosting to make a slightly sticky mixture.

“Alrighty, now, roll up your sleeves Thran. We’ve gotta dig into this and make balls!” Hal took his cardigan off and slung it over the back of a chair.

Thranduil gulped. He didn’t want to roll up his sleeves; he couldn’t. Hal would see. Thranduil had taken the bandage off yesterday and no longer needed the steri-strips, so his cut would be completely visible. He didn’t know if that was worse than having a bandage. Either way, Hal would gasp and flail and make a fuss.

“I can do it with my sleeves like this, Hal.”

“It’s like a million degrees in here and you’re wearing that big old sweater! Are you cold? Are you getting sick?”

“Stop being a mother hen. I’m fine.”

“Oh, girl. I know that tone.”

“What tone?”

“That defensive tone.”

Thranduil exhaled through his nose, and poked his head into the fridge to get away from Hal’s scrutinizing eyes. He searched around and without thinking grabbed a bottle of wine.

“The fuck are you doing?” Hal smacked his arm. “It’s barely even ten in the morning! You’re not serious, are you?”

Thranduil set the wine bottle back down in the fridge harder than he’d meant to. It hit the glass shelf with a clank. “I’m just trying to avoid the fucking Spanish inquisition, okay? I did something stupid the other night and I don’t want you to bitch at me about it.”

Hal’s expression sobered then and he backed away from Thranduil and sighed softly. “Thran. I’m not going to bitch at you. What happened?”

“I did something I shouldn’t have.”

“You didn’t cheat on Bard, did you?” Hal’s eyes widened at the thought.

“No, no! I would never. God, don’t even think that. I did something…to myself.”

“Oh, god, Thran,” Hal winced, a look of realization crossing his face. “You cut again, didn’t you?”

Thranduil closed his eyes and took a breath. “Yeah.” It was all he could say. He was still ashamed that he’d done it, that he’d resorted to his old, unhealthy ways of coping.

He didn’t even have a chance to open his eyes before Hal’s arms were around him, rubbing his back gently. “Oh, my sweet Thran.” Hal cooed, practically rocking Thranduil in his arms. “Are you okay now?”

“Yes, Hal. I’m fine now. I called Bard after I did it and he came over and we talked. I told him.”

Hal pulled away, his expression somewhere between shock and confusion. “You told him that you cut, or you told him—”

Thranduil didn’t give Hal a chance to finish. “I told him about the borderline.”

“Oh. And what did he say?”

“He didn’t know what it was, so I showed him the diagnostic criteria. He seemed alright with it. He was worried, though.”

“Because he cares and he loves you.”

“We talked about therapy and he even offered to go to one of those groups for families, like an Al-Anon type of thing but for BPD. He said he wants to understand.”

“Aw, Thran. He’s a good man. See, I told you he wouldn’t reject you.”

“Is it wrong that I still worry that he will? Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day...”

“That’s part of the disorder, Thran. It’s something you’ve always worried about. I think the therapy will help.”

“Oh, and speaking of therapy! I got an appointment for Monday.”

“Oooh, that’s great! Look at you, taking control of your life! I think Bard is a very positive influence.”

“He is. He deserves to be treated well and not have to be subjected to my shit. I want to be better for him.”

“You have to want to be better for yourself.”

“I know. I want that, too. But Bard helps motivate me. I finished that commission yesterday.” Thranduil couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to complete something.

“Ohhh, let me see it!”

“It’s already gone to the client. I had Lindir come by yesterday to pick it up and do the framing and all that jazz.”

“Did you take pictures?”

“Of course. I’ll show you later. For now, let’s roll these balls.” Thranduil grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Ah, an activity I am quite skilled at,” Hal chuckled. “And you can roll up your sleeves, you know. Uncle Hal isn’t going to judge.”

“I know you won’t. I guess I just had to warn you first.”

“Thran, I’ve seen your wrist after you cut ‘down the road’ and landed yourself in the hospital. I would never judge.”

“And this isn’t even a fraction as bad as that.”

So, Thranduil rolled up his sleeves and he and Hal dug into the cake mixture, forming perfectly shaped balls, which they then placed into the freezer to harden. In half an hour, the balls were removed and dunked into the melted chocolate. They added some sprinkles and stuck sticks into the them, then put them back into the freezer. By tonight, they would be ready.

Once Hal left, Thranduil got Legolas to take a shower and then did the same himself. His cut had started to heal, scabbing over and itching. He put a bit of ointment on it and then went to work drying and flat-ironing his hair. Then, he got dressed and went downstairs with his son, who was looking through the pantry at all the snacks Thranduil had purchased yesterday. Chips, cheetos, popcorn, various candies, all the fixing to make s’mores. He hoped Bard didn’t have a problem with Tilda eating junk food.

Legolas picked out some movies for them to watch and set them out in front of the television.

“Are you excited, little leaf?” Thranduil asked, pulling out his phone to check the time. Four-seventeen. Bard said they would come over around five, so they could have supper together.

“Yes, I can’t wait! I want to put more colours in my hair. Maybe Tilda will want to, too.”

“I’m sure she will. You two will have lots of fun. What do you think we should have for supper?”

“McDonald’s!”

Thranduil wrinkled his nose. “Not McDonald’s!”

“Please, Ada!”

“We’ll wait until they get here and then we’ll decide, okay?”

“Okay,” Legolas gave a sigh. “I hope Tilda likes McDonald’s.”

“You always want McDonald’s.”

“It’s so greasy and delicious!”

Thranduil’s phone rang so he quickly scurried away from Legolas to answer it in private.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, his lips twisting into a grin.

“Hey, my love. We’re gonna be leaving shortly. Just wanted to let you know. Is there anything we should bring?”

“Just your stamina, that’s all.” Thranduil smirked, unable to resist teasing Bard.

“My stamina is always with me, doll.” Bard chuckled. “For your sake, I hope you don’t tire too quickly.”

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Bard lowered his voice. “I can’t wait to get you alone.”

“I know,” Thranduil sighed. “I want you.”

“I want you, too.”

“I’m starving.”

“I’ll feed you. Just you wait.” Bard’s voice had become rough and breathy. Thranduil trembled just thinking of how exactly Bard would feed him.

“I look forward to it. Oh, bring your camera.”

“I’ve already got it ready to go.”

“Good, good. I still haven’t given you your birthday present.”

“You in lace?”

“Me in lace,” Thranduil echoed.

Bard hummed. “God, doll. The things you do to me.”

“What about the things I plan to do to you?”

“Don’t tease me. Oh, shit. Tilda needs my help packing some things.”

“Okay, baby. We’ll see you soon then?”

“Yup, in less than half an hour. If Tilda can ever decide what to wear.” Bard chuckled. In a muffled voice he called out to his daughter. “Yes, Til, I’m coming! Alright, doll, we’ll be there soon. Love you.”

“Love you, babe. See you soon. Drive safe.”

“Always.”

“See ya.” Thranduil made a kissy noise, drawing Bard’s laughter.

“See ya, Thran.”

He pocketed his phone and let out a shaky breath.

 

***

“C’mon, Da! What’re you doing in the garage? It’s almost five!” Tilda shouted from the driveway, yanking at the car door.

“One sec, honeybee.” Bard called back.

He held the small wooden box in the palm of his hand. Inside it was Thranduil’s Christmas present. He nodded, making up his mind. Clutching the box in his hand, he strode out of the garage and closed the door behind him.

He let Tilda into the car, helped her with her seatbelt and slid into the driver’s seat.

Beside him, in the cup holder, he sat the little box.

He smiled at it fondly, and then pulled out of the driveway.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a sleepover

Thranduil knew he looked ridiculous. He had the stupidest grin on his face.

But he couldn’t bring himself to wipe it away as he watched Legolas and Tilda’s interactions. Everything they did was adorable – the way they played together, the things they said, all of it. The TV was on the in the background, but he didn’t watch it. He kept his eyes on the children, fondness and amusement written clearly on his face.

He could see the same look in Bard’s eyes. So, maybe Thranduil’s expression wasn’t as stupid as he thought. Bard felt it, too.

The two of them sat on the sofa, picking at leftover McDonald’s fries – yes, Legolas had gotten his wish, they had McDonald’s for supper – as the children played with legos on the living room floor.

“…And this is the bad guy.” Legolas said, holding up a small lego figure. “He’s going to try to break into our fortress, so we need to build the walls higher.”

Tilda nodded enthusiastically. “The black legos are the strongest, so we need to add some of those. Then the bad guys won’t be able to break in.”

“Yes, yes! And we need to put more archers in the tower so they can shoot the bad guys without them knowing!”

Tilda bounced, clapping her hands. “Yes, lots of archers. And a few more swordsmen at the gate!”

Thranduil looked away from them long enough to catch the crooked grin on Bard’s face. He popped another fry in his mouth, squeezing Bard’s hand tightly.

“They’re getting along so well, doll. I can hardly believe it.” Bard’s voice was barely a whisper as he leaned in closer to Thranduil, their legs pressing together lightly.

“I know. It makes me so happy.” Thranduil took another sip of his wine which encouraged Bard to do the same. What a classy bunch they were, drinking wine with greasy fast food. The thought almost made Thranduil burst out in laughter.

“Me, too.”

Was this what it felt like to have a family? It all seemed so foreign to Thranduil. But now, he had a loving boyfriend who was also a father, with children that he cared about more than anything. Thranduil’s heart surged. How could he be so lucky? The devoted expression Bard wore on his face as he watched their children was like nothing Thranduil had ever seen before. Except for once, a long time ago with Emilia.

It had always been Thranduil’s dream to have a large family, a brood of children. And he’d truly come to accept that that future had been stolen from him the night his wife died, but here he was, spending time with Bard, Tilda and Legolas like they were one big, happy family. The children had become friends so quickly and without any of the awkwardness that adults seemed to experience when getting to know each other. They were at the perfect age to forge friendships. And Tilda actually seemed to like Thranduil. That wasn’t something he’d expected. He wondered how he’d do with Bard’s two older children. Despite his apprehension, he was looking forward to meeting them.

Everything felt so right.

The light in Bard’s eyes told Thranduil that he must feel the same way, too.

At just past seven o’clock, Legolas started begging for snacks.

“Ooh, snacks?” Tilda perked up. “What kinds of snacks?”

“All sorts of stuff,” Legolas said, jumping up and taking Tilda’s hand, pulling her up from the floor. “Come, let me show you! Ada made cake pops, too!”

“Cake pops?!” Tilda exclaimed.

“Yeah!” Legolas ran to the kitchen with Tilda in tow.

“I guess we better go help with the snacks,” Thranduil said, tugging on Bard’s hand.

“Good idea, or they might just eat everything without us knowing.”

Thranduil pulled Bard up, yanking their bodies close together. Bard smirked, leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Thranduil’s lips. “Mmm, baby.”

When Bard eased away, his grin was entirely devilish. Fuck, Thranduil couldn’t wait to get that fucking bastard alone.

“My pretty doll,” Bard purred, stroking a hand through Thranduil’s hair and giving it a playful tug.

The pull between them was magnetic, and Thranduil found himself back in Bard’s embrace, nuzzling into his boyfriend’s neck and pressing soft, tender kisses against warm skin.

***

Bard didn’t want to let Thranduil out of his grasp. He wanted to hold that beautiful doll for an eternity, never having to worry about letting go. He inhaled through his nose, breathing in the scent of Thranduil’s hair. It was intoxicating, enough to lull Bard into a hypnotic trance.

God, what he wouldn’t give to haul his gorgeous boyfriend up the stairs and into bed right this second! But, he couldn’t. He’d have to wait until the children went to bed. But even then, was that what Thranduil wanted? Did he want Bard to devour him, or was he not ready for Bard to display such intense emotions?

Thranduil’s hand snaked lower and he rubbed his palm over the front of Bard’s jeans, eliciting a growl from the depths of Bard’s throat.

“Fuck, Thran. Be good, you bastard.” Maybe Thranduil was ready. Like usual, Bard was likely just over thinking things.

Thranduil smirked, batting those long lashes. “I’m sorry, baby. Am I getting you all flustered? I certainly didn’t mean to.” He chuckled and bit his lower lip. It was maddening. Did he realize how enticing his every move was? Bard wanted to take him apart piece by piece and devour him whole, leaving him utterly consumed.

Bard shook his head and pulled Thranduil’s hand away from his the front of his jeans. God, he was already half hard. If Thranduil kept touching him it wouldn’t take long before his jeans became uncomfortably painful. And the children might notice.

“Down, you,” Thranduil said, casting his eyes down to Bard’s crotch. “Gonna get us in trouble.”

“I blame you. Now I’m gonna have to sit for the rest of the evening.” Bard chuckled, poking Thranduil in the side, just below his ribs.

Thranduil snorted, his laughter bubbling up out of nowhere. “Don’t you dare tickle me!”

“I know how ticklish you are, doll, and I’m not afraid to use it against you.”

“Evil.”

Bard laughed, poking Thranduil one more time. Thranduil tried to dodge him, shuffling along towards the kitchen, sticking his tongue out at Bard. Before he followed Thranduil, Bard adjusted his pants, making sure he wasn’t sporting an obvious bulge.

In the kitchen, the children had pulled out bags of chips, cheetos, and popcorn. Legolas was up on the counter, taking out a few large bowls. Tilda had bags of candy in her arms, which she sat on the island beside all the other snacks.

“Da, look what we’ve got!” Tilda laughed when Bard opened his mouth in shock.

“Wow, that’s a lot of junk food.” Bard examined all the bags.

“You said we could have it, though, Da!”

“When did I say that?” Bard scratched his chin in feigned puzzlement.

“You totally said it, Da!”

“Yes, Bard,” Thranduil drawled, opening up a bag of Nibs and taking a bite of one. “You did say that.” He grinned before setting down the bag and opening up the freezer. “And, look what I’ve got here.”

“Oh my god!” Tilda exclaimed, all but forgetting the bags of candy as she took in the sight of what Bard guessed were cake pops.

Legolas hopped down from the counter, his hands grabbing at the cake pops, but Thranduil held the tray up in the air away from little, grabby-hands. “They’re frozen and too hard, so just give it a few minutes, okay?”

Both children nodded as Thranduil set the tray onto the counter. Tilda looked at the pink sprinkled cake pops in awe and Legolas’s expression was eager, like he couldn’t wait to dig in.

“Those are cute, Thran. You made them?” Bard asked, joining the children to get a good look at Thranduil’s creation.

“A certain trash queen helped me.”

Bard snorted. “Hal.”

“Are you gonna try one, too, Bard?” Legolas questioned, looking up at Bard. “They’re really good. So moist and juicy!”

“Of course, I’ll try one. As long as you kids don’t eat them all first.”

“Da, we’re not pigs!” Tilda giggled. “How long before they’re ready?”

“Soon, sweetheart,” Thranduil said. “Let’s put the rest of this stuff into bowls and by the time we’re set up for a movie the cake pops will be ready. Okay?”

They went to work, pouring all their snacks into bowls, which were then taken into the living room. Thranduil got napkins and placed a hefty amount in the middle of the coffee table between all the bowls. Bard helped Legolas fill the kettle with hot water so they could make hot chocolate as Tilda and Thranduil chose mugs for each of them.

“Do you want marshmallows?” Thranduil asked, holding up a bag of miniature marshmallows.

“Oh, yes, please!” Tilda said. “I love marshmallows in mine.”

“So do I,” Legolas agreed. “I get nine marshmallows in mine because I’m nine years old.”

“Does that mean I get eight?”

“Yes, Ada says we get as many marshmallows as our age.” Legolas explained, taking the bag from Thranduil and counting out nine marshmallows on the counter. He passed the bag to Tilda and she counted out eight for herself.

“So that means Da gets thirty-five! That’s a lot of marshmallows to fit in one cup!”

Bard chuckled. “Maybe that means I’ll just have to have five cups of hot chocolate with seven marshmallows in each.”

“That’s too much hot chocolate, Da!”

“Or I’ll just eat the marshmallows,” Bard said, shoving his hand into the bag and pulling out a handful which he promptly put in his mouth. He raised his eyebrows as he chewed, drawing laughter from the children and Thranduil.

“That was at least ten right there,” Thranduil chuckled. “I bet I could fit all twenty-nine of mine in my mouth at once.”

“Do it, Ada!” Legolas urged. “I’ll count them out.” Legolas counted the marshmallows until there were twenty-nine of them in a pile.

The kettle sounded, so Bard fetched it and poured it into cups with the powdered hot chocolate mix.

“Alright, kiddos, add your marshmallows!” Bard slid their cups towards them and they plopped their marshmallows in one by one.

“Watch, Bard,” Legolas said. “Ada will put them all in his mouth.”

“You really want to see this, don’t you, leaf?” Thranduil’s lips twisted up in a grin as he shook his head in resignation.

So, one by one, Thranduil popped the miniature marshmallows into his mouth as the children cheered for him to continue. Bard laughed as Thranduil shoved in the final one, closing his mouth around it, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

Thranduil mumbled out some sound, which Bard took to mean, “I can’t swallow them.” Legolas laughed at the sounds his father was making and laughed even harder when Thranduil bent over the garbage bin to spit all the marshmallows out.

“You wasted them!”

“You asked for it, Legs. I would choke if I tried to swallow that load,” Thranduil snorted, giving Bard a smirk.

“Oh, god, Thran!” Bard laughed. He was glad the children were too young to pick up on the double meaning of what Thranduil had just said. Such a fucking bastard.

After that, they all made their way back into the living room with their steaming mugs of hot chocolate. They settled onto the sofa as the kids tried to decide what movie they wanted to watch.

“I like A Christmas Carol, the Disney version.” Legolas said.

“The one with Mickey Mouse?” Tilda asked.

“Yeah!” Legolas nodded.

“Oh, yes. I love that one! Let’s watch it.”

So, Legolas grabbed the DVD case and handed it to Thranduil. Bard watched as Thranduil put in the disc. He had to bend over to turn the machine on, and Bard couldn’t help but take in the sight of Thranduil’s perfectly shaped ass. God, it really was a delicious ass. If the children weren’t here, if it was only him and Thranduil, he would sneak up behind Thranduil and give that ass a good smack.

How did that thought even get into Bard’s head? Clearly, he needed to purify his mind. Despite himself, Bard smiled. And although he couldn’t imagine any scenario in which Thranduil would enjoy his ass being slapped, it was still a fantasy Bard entertained nonetheless.

He fought away those unsavory thoughts as the children climbed onto the sofa to settle in for the movie.

As the movie played, they all indulged in their smorgasbord of snacks. Bard had to warn Tilda a few times not to eat too much; otherwise she might end up feeling sick. But it seemed Bard’s warning of sickness was no deterrent – she kept eating.  

When the movie came to its end, the children were deep in conversation, discussing all their favorite scenes. Bard listened happily, sharing with them the parts that he enjoyed best, as well. Thranduil was flicking through channels, checking to see if any Christmas movies were playing on television.

“Oh, look,” Thranduil said in a wistful tone. “ _‘It’s a Wonderful Life’_ is coming on.”

“No, Ada!” Legolas was quick to protest. “Not that old movie from back when the world was still black and white! Boring!”

“What’s _‘It’s a Wonderful Life’_?” Tilda asked, tossing pieces of popcorn into her mouth.

“It’s so boring, and Ada cries every time!”

“It’s sad, Legs.” Thranduil reasoned.

“Some guy wants to kill himself or something, and then this angel comes down and shows him what his life would’ve been like if he was never born. Depressing!” Legolas huffed.

“Aw, that’s a sad Christmas movie.”

“It is sad, so we won’t watch it. Don’t worry, Legs.” Thranduil continued his search. “Oh, Charlie Brown! This is good. What do you think?”

“Yeah, Charlie Brown. Classic!”

“I like Charlie Brown, too,” Tilda said. “Can I have some water? My mouth feels all sugary.”

“Of course,” Thranduil replied. “Legs, Bard, you want anything?”

“I’ll have another cake pop,” Legolas said, his tone changing to make his statement seem more like a question, as if trying to convince Thranduil.

“One more and that’s it.” Thranduil tapped his son’s nose with his long index finger. “You don’t want to be the size of a barge.”

“Like Gaston!” Tilda chimed. “I love Beauty and the Beast.”

“Me, too!” Legolas agreed.

Bard went into the kitchen with them, and after tending to the children, Thranduil poured them both another glass of wine.

Once they got back from the kitchen, they settled back onto the sofa. Bard and Thranduil sat on the ends, and the children sat in the middle. This time Tilda nestled in beside Thranduil and Legolas sat beside Bard, the two of them sharing a bowl of chips.

***

By the time the movie was nearing its end, Tilda had snuggled in close to Thranduil. Her head was leaning into his arm and her little hand was resting upon his thigh. Before too long, she began shifting, moving closer until she began to crawl into Thranduil’s lap. Thranduil couldn’t fight the smile on his face. Bard’s daughter trusted him enough to want to sit on his lap. His heart beat a little faster at the thought, warming his entire being.

“Til,” Bard said in warning, glancing over at his daughter. “Don’t crawl all over Thran.”

“It’s okay, Bard,” Thranduil said, his heart in his throat. “She can sit on me.” He stroked Tilda’s hair and pulled her in closer, wrapping an arm around her. She held onto his arm and nestled her head into his chest.

“You’re sure?”

Thranduil nodded. He hoped Bard could see how happy his daughter’s gesture made him. It wasn’t a problem at all. Thranduil liked it. It made him feel good. “I’m sure, Bard. She’s just a sweet little cuddler.”

“Til, ask next time, okay?”

“Okay, Da. Sorry, Thran. You don’t mind if I sit on you?”

“Of course not, darling. You can sit on me whenever you like.” Thranduil pulled a fleece blanket from the arm of the sofa and shook it out, placing it over top of himself and Tilda.

The movie continued, but Thranduil couldn’t concentrate on anything but the little fingers that wound around his hair, twirling the strands in a gentle motion. Tilda absently rubbed the ends of Thranduil’s hair over her cheek, eyes staring ahead at the TV.

A smile was still plastered on his face as he rubbed Tilda’s shoulder soothingly. Why did this feel so right? How had Bard’s youngest daughter managed to capture his heart so quickly? In the darkness of the room, he caught Bard’s eyes upon him, gazing fondly at the sight of Tilda in Thranduil’s lap. They locked eyes for a moment, grinning at each other.

After the movie ended and Tilda had slid off Thranduil’s lap, they began to clean up all the snacks. Bit of popcorn were on the floor, between sofa cushions, even a piece had attached itself into the ends of Thranduil’s hair.

“Sorry about the mess, doll. Tilda isn’t the tidiest eater.”

“No worries, babe. Legs is the same, he somehow always seems to miss his mouth.” Thranduil chuckled, picking up the bits of popcorn and cheetos from the floor. Thranduil found a Swedish Berry on the floor, under the coffee table, so he swiped it and popped it into his mouth. So much for the three second rule.

Bard helped, and together they got all the bowls and cups into the kitchen. The empty bags went into the garbage and the others were rolled up and put back into the pantry.

The children quickly joined them and Tilda came up to Thranduil and pulled gently on his shirt. Thranduil set the wine bottle he was holding onto the counter and gave Tilda his full regard.

“Yes, little princess? What would you like?”

Tilda’s smile was bashful. “Um, Legolas said you play the violin. Can you play something for us? Please?”

“Yeah, Ada!” Legolas exclaimed, bouncing on his heels. “Play us a song! Pretty please!”

“Well,” Thranduil grinned, looking at Bard. “Since you both asked so nicely, I guess I’ll have to go get the violin. Just wait here, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Hooray!” The children chorused, clapping their hands together.

Thranduil rushed into the basement, grabbing his violin case and hauling it back up the stairs and into the living room where everyone waited.

“Play that Mendelssohn song, Ada! The concerto that I like.”

“E Minor, opus sixty-four?”

“Yes, that one!” Legolas nodded, drawing Thranduil’s chuckle.

Tilda’s expression was eager and when Thranduil opened the violin case, she was at his side in a fraction of a second, peering at the wooden instrument in awe.

“That concerto is almost half an hour long, leaf.” Thranduil quirked a brow. “You’ll get bored after two minutes.” He chuckled. It was true that after a few minutes of hearing the same sort of sounds over and over, that Legolas got bored and ended up requesting another, more lively song.

“Wow, that’s a long song!” Tilda said, eyes watching as Thranduil rosined the bow and tighten the bow strings.

“It is very long. So I’ll only play a small excerpt.” Thranduil said to Tilda. “And then maybe you could convince your Da to play the guitar, and we can do a duet.”

“You play the guitar?” Legolas asked Bard.

Bard nodded. “I do, indeed.”

“Da’s really good!”

“He is,” Thranduil agreed, grinning at Bard, who blushed and ran a hand through his hair.

Thranduil’s expression sobered and he took his position, clearing his mind. He began by playing scales to warm up, picking up the pace as the octaves increased. 

He was no stranger to performing for an audience, so the little eyes staring at him did not bother him. A sense of ease washed over him. Thranduil had performed in public many times, dating back to early childhood when he first started playing the violin and piano. He’d played at many recitals, school functions and festivals, and the more skilled he got, the better reception he received, which helped boost his confidence and encourage him to perform more often. He’d busked the streets of New York City during his time in college to make money for rent. Performing was a part of him; it had been for so many years of his life. The atmosphere of the crowds, the cheers, the clapping, the looks on people’s faces when he played a particularly difficult piece – it all motivated and encouraged him. There was no fear, no anxiety. It was the one thing he could lose himself in. It felt good to bring joy to others through music.

Maybe he’d be able to convince Bard to play along with him. When it came to indulging in his interests, it seemed Bard needed a bit of a nudge in the right direction. Thranduil was aware of how Bard had had to bury his passions, abandon the things he loved to do, all because of an abuser, all to keep the peace. Thranduil wanted so badly to free Bard from those invisible chains that still held him back.

As he played the piece, his thoughts evaporated. He was at peace, lost in the music, swept away into the melody he created. His eyes closed as he delved deeper into the song, swaying gently with each note, relaxing with each pull of the bow. He couldn’t see the expressions on the children’s faces, but he could hear the little sounds of awe that they made.

He stopped playing after a few minutes, his eyes fluttering open as he awoke from his trance.

“Oh, wow! You’re so good!”

Thranduil offered a bow. “Thank you, Tilda.”

“How do you make it sound so good? Can I try?” She asked with a shy smile.

“Til, you don’t want to break it.” Bard gave her a pointed look.

“Oh, psh!” Thranduil dismissed Bard’s comment with a wave of his hand. “It’s not a Stradivarius or anything, so Tilda, if you would like to try, you most certainly can.”

Tilda looked first to her father, who gave a small shrug and then back to Thranduil. He held the instrument out to the little girl and she took it from him very carefully. She placed it beneath her chin, imitating what she had seen Thranduil do. Thranduil assisted her, helping her angle the violin correctly and showing her how to properly hold it. Then, he showed her how to grasp the bow and where to place each finger. After a deep inhale, Tilda stroked the bow across the strings, cringing when the strings protested with a high-pitched screech.

“Oh, my god! I’m horrible!” Tilda proclaimed, face contorting into a grimace as she tried again.

“It’s hard, huh?” Legolas said. “Ada let me try a few times and I suck.”

“I suck, too.”

“It takes many hours of practice,” Thranduil said.

“How many hours have you practiced?” Tilda inquired, playfully moving the bow back and forth on the strings, drawing another wince from both her and Legolas.

“Too many to count. I started playing when I was just four years old. I sounded awful in the beginning. Everyone does.”

“Yeah, don’t worry if it doesn’t sound good. Ain’t no thing but a chicken wing, as Uncle Hal would say,” Legolas said.

“That violin is too big for you, too.”

“They come in different sizes?”

“They have ones for children so you don’t have to stretch your arms so far.”

“Maybe you’d be good at the piano!” Legolas suggested. “We have a baby grand in the basement!”

“Oh, I love the piano! I’d like to learn how to play!” The violin was quickly handed back to Thranduil and he put it back into its case.

He and Bard followed the children down the stairs and into the music room. Thranduil set his violin case on the chair and went to snare the guitar from its stand in the corner as the children sat down on the piano bench.

As Tilda and Legolas banged around on the piano keys, Thranduil handed the guitar to Bard. A small smile crept onto Bard’s face, his eyes sparking with the beginning of excitement.

“Shall we?” Thranduil proposed, popping open his violin case and tucking the instrument under his chin.

“You know I can’t say no to you,” Bard grinned.

On the piano, Legolas showed Tilda how to play _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_ and _Mary Had a Little Lamb_ , but as soon as they realized their fathers were about to duet, they both turned on the bench to watch.

“Pirates!” Legolas requested, clapping his hands.

***

With Thranduil’s encouragement and the children’s cheers, Bard strummed a few chords.

“So, you want the Pirates theme?” He asked.

Both children nodded.

Thranduil was ready, his violin in place, so he gave Bard a nod and counted them in. Before long, the children were up and dancing. Bard let the music sweep over him, and it didn’t take long before he lost himself in it. Playing music like this always transported him to his ‘happy place’. He’d liked to play the guitar years ago when things started to get difficult with Madison, but he eventually stopped because his playing only made her angrier. And so his happy place was taken away from him.

But now, he was allowed to enjoy himself without worry. It was more than he could ask for. He was so grateful, especially when he caught sight of the expressions on the children’s faces, the way they danced and laughed, so carefree.

Did Thranduil know how much joy he brought to Bard’s life, how gratified Bard was to be able to indulge in such simple pleasures?

They played Smooth Criminal next and the children sang along, mumbling and making up their own lyrics. It felt good to see Thranduil’s face light up in response to this, to see the pain and turmoil that ravaged him only a few days ago disappear completely.

Bard’s smile remained throughout the entire song.

At length, Thranduil ended up at the piano, and together they played Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen and Tiny Dancer by Elton John. As they neared the end of Tiny Dancer, the children’s energy seemed to wane.

“It’s eleven-fifteen,” Thranduil announced as he played the last note of the song. “Time for little monsters to go to bed.”

The children groaned, but didn’t protest for long. They were tired; they’d had a very exciting day, but it was time for it to come to a close.

So, Bard and Thranduil took them upstairs where they brushed their teeth and got into their pajamas. Tilda and Legolas wanted to sleep in the same room, and because Legolas’s bed was large enough, both of them settled under the covers, talking in whispered tones about all the fun they’d had today.

“If either of you need us, just come and knock on my door, okay?” Thranduil said, pulling up the covers around them.

“Okay,” they chorused.

“And don’t stay up too late talking,” Bard added.

“We won’t!” They both giggled.

“Night, little leaf. Night, Tilda.” Thranduil whispered, turning of the lamp on the bedside table.

“Goodnight, honeybee. Night, Legs.” Bard said. “Sleep well.”

“Goodnight,” they replied, nestling into the warmth of the covers.

Bard retreated out of Legolas’s room with Thranduil following closely behind. Not a second after closing the door, Thranduil grabbed Bard’s shirt, pushed him against the wall and captured his lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

The fun might be over for the children, but for Bard and Thranduil, it had only just begun.

***

Bard sat impatiently on the edge of Thranduil’s bed, his eyes staring at the closet that Thranduil had disappeared into. He had an idea of what Thranduil was doing – getting changed into what he’d dubbed as ‘Bard’s birthday present’.

His lacy lingerie.

Bard’s heart pounded in his chest. What would Thranduil be dressed in when he emerged? He had little to no idea what to expect. He’d seen the black lacy underwear Thranduil had worn the first night they spent together. Would he be wearing something similar this time, or would it be completely different? Either way, Bard knew he would enjoy it. He would enjoy Thranduil in anything, or nothing at all.

He licked his lips and took another sip of wine. Before Thranduil had gone into the closet to change, he’d retrieved their glasses of wine from down stairs, along with the lunch bag containing Bard’s camera. Bard held the stem between his fingers, fearing the tension he carried in his body may very well snap the thin piece of glass. He gulped down the last dregs of the red liquid and placed the glass on the bedside table, returning quickly to his spot on the end of the bed.

Without warning, the door of the closet cracked open.

The light in the closet went out, and Thranduil stepped out into the dim light of the bedroom.

Holy _shit_.

Bard’s breath caught in his throat. If he could move he would rub his eyes, do a double take, anything to tell himself this was real. But he was immobile, frozen by the beauty bestowed upon him.

Thranduil stood before him, shaking his long flaxen hair over his shoulders, a smoldering look in his eyes and his mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk.

He wore all white. Sheer white knee-high stockings – complete with ruffle trim – hugged his long legs like a second skin. The stockings were held up by a garter belt. Beneath the garter belt, he had on lacy, silk panties and draped over his shoulders was a see-through kimono style robe which he’d left untied.

Thranduil seemed to be enjoying the look of appreciation in Bard’s eyes. He spun around once, drawing out the motion, taking his time, letting Bard take it all in. The back of the panties barely existed. The only thing covering Thranduil’s ass were thin strings of criss-crossed material.

Bard’s jaw dropped. He didn’t bother closing his mouth, though. His stupid expression granted him more than he could’ve ever expected – Thranduil strutting over to him with a coy smile as he sank down into Bard’s lap, clasping his hands on Bard’s shoulder and giving a little roll of his hips.

“Do you like it?” Thranduil asked, whispering into Bard’s ear.

Bard nodded. “I love it,” he finally said. His voice came out ragged and husky, clear evidence of his arousal. “God, doll, you’re so beautiful.”

“You’re the beautiful one, Bard. On the inside and the outside. You’ve taken such good care of me since we met. You’ve done so much for me. It means the world.”

Bard’s face felt hot. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the kind words, or because of the close proximity to Thranduil.

“You deserve it, babe,” he whispered into Thranduil’s hair. The smell was intoxicating. He could drown in it for days and never have to come up for air.

“So do you,” Thranduil breathed. “I want to give you everything you deserve.”

“You already do. You inspire me and encourage me to do the things I love and you don’t bitch at me about it. You have no idea how much that means to me, to have someone so supportive.”

Thranduil hummed, sliding back off of Bard’s lap. He sauntered over to where Bard had left the beat-up lunch bag and snared it, handing it to Bard when he approached. “I encourage you because I love you and I believe in your art. So, why don’t you go ahead and take some shots.”

“You want me to?” Bard asked, raising his eyebrows.

Thranduil nodded and brushed Bard’s hair out of his face. “But first,” he held up a finger, “I wanted to give you something.”

“Give me what?”

“I got you something for Christmas – actually two things, and since we won’t see each other on Christmas day I figured I’d give them to you now.”

“Thran,” Bard began to protest. But really, what was there he could do now? Thranduil had already spent money on him. God, he just hoped it wasn’t a lot of money. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I hope you didn’t spend a lot.”

Thranduil shook his head. “No, no, nothing extravagant. Just wait here, I’ll be right back.” He headed into the closet and when he finally re-emerged, he held two wrapped gifts. Much too big to be something inexpensive.

“Doll,” Bard smiled as Thranduil sat down on the bed beside him. “This is too much. You’re too generous.”

“Oh, shush, you.” Thranduil put his finger to Bard’s lips. Bard pressed a playful kiss to his finger before Thranduil handed the smaller box to Bard. “This one is more…practical. It’s something you need. The other one is more to… indulge a certain kink.” He smirked.

“You got me a kinky present?” Bard chuckled.

“It’s useful, too. I just can’t help but think it’s sexy.”

“You’ve piqued my curiosity, doll.”

“The practical one first.”

Bard held the gift in his hands and shook it gently as if the action would help him decipher what was inside. Thranduil grinned at him as he began unwrapping the present. He did so slowly, unhooking each piece of tape so he could salvage the paper. It looked expensive so he didn’t want to tear it; Thranduil could always use it again.

“Babe, you can rip it, you know.”

“It’s good paper, Thran. You can re-use it.”

“Nonsense.” Thranduil shook his head, but the smile never left his lips. “It’ll just go in recycling.”

Beneath the expensive wrapping paper was an innocuous cardboard box that did nothing to give away its contents. He opened the box slowly, the grin on his face widening as he took in the sight of what was inside.

“Oh my god, Thran! It’s a bag for my camera, right? I’ve always wanted one of these!” Bard smiled so hard it hurt. This was something he really did need, something he’d always wanted but never had money to afford. And even if he did, he knew Madison would scold him for spending money on something for himself and his stupid hobby. “Doll, this is brilliant.”

“I’m glad you like it. A real photographer needs something a little better than a lunch bag to keep his camera in.” Thranduil grinned as Bard unzipped the bag and dug around in all the compartments.

“It’s even got space for lenses,” Bard enthused, standing up and slinging the camera bag over his shoulder. He promptly took his camera out of the old worn lunch bag. At long last he would be able to throw that piece of junk lunch bag in the trash! Now his camera would have a real home. “Let’s see how my camera likes its new ride.” He put his camera into its own special compartment in the bag as he looked at Thranduil, grinning the entire time.

Thranduil watched him with keen interest, biting his bottom lip. God, that expression was such a fucking distraction. Not to mention the skimpy outfit Thranduil had on. Bard’s eyes trailed up and down Thranduil’s body, lingering a few second longer on the panties. He couldn’t wait to unwrap such a delicious present, but he had to rein himself in. There would be time to unwrap his birthday present later.

“It fits perfectly! God, doll, you didn’t have to do this, but really…this is the best present. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Open this one now.” With a giddy chuckle, Thranduil handed Bard the larger box. The smirk on his beautiful face grew more perverse. What on earth could it be? Something kinky? Bard had no idea. “It made me think of you, so I couldn’t resist.”

Bard gulped and took the box, carefully unhooking the tape. “This is too much, babe, really – the camera bag is more than I could’ve ever expected.” He spoke honestly - the camera bag really was above and beyond what he believed he deserved. He couldn’t fathom that Thranduil had gotten him something else as well.

“You deserve this and more,” Thranduil smiled, tucking a tendril of hair behind his ear.

“I don’t know what to say.” 

“Just open it, baby. Rip the paper this time! Live a little!” Thranduil egged him on, reaching over and tearing at the paper himself. “Like that!”

“Okay, doll, okay, I’ll rip it.” Bard chuckled and tore at the paper, sending it flying around him in bits. He couldn’t contain the eager smile on his face. He felt like a child again; completely carefree.

When he got the paper off and the box open, his jaw dropped.

“Holy shit, babe! Look at this!” He pulled a leather jacket from the box with a gasp. It looked to be vintage, worn-in and well-loved. “I’ve always wanted a leather jacket like this – not a new one, but a vintage one because of the patina.” He felt the material, examined all the buttons and zippers. “Oh, wow, look how aged it is. It must have a rich back story; so much character!”

“It’s from the sixties. I found it in a vintage shop. I thought you’d look sexy in a leather jacket. On your motorcycle.” Thranduil quirked a brow, drawing a sly smile from Bard. Was this something that turned Thranduil on? By the look on his face, it must be.

“Babe, it’s perfect - just perfect!”

“Try it on!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Bard slipped the jacket on and spun around, showing it off. It was a perfect fit. “The fit is amazing, nice and supple, not stiff at all.”

“Hot fucking damn, babe. You look good.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Mmhmm,” Thranduil hummed appreciatively. “Hold up. Don’t take it off.”

“What’re you doing?” Bard asked as Thranduil hopped off the bed and scurried back into the closet.

“I want to get a picture,” Thranduil said, reappearing and holding up what looked to be a Polaroid camera.

“Oh, you’ve got a Polaroid camera?”

Thranduil bit his lip. “It’s sort of a present for us. So you can use it, too.”

Before Bard could say anything, Thranduil had the camera pointed at him.

“Oh, god, Thran! I take horrible pictures, so do it fast before I have to think about it.”

“Pft,” Thranduil snorted from behind the camera, the sound of a snap indicating that he took a picture. “You do not take horrible pictures!” The small photo printed out and Thranduil held the corner between two fingers, waving it around.

“Now you put the jacket on, and I’ll take a picture,” Bard suggested. He felt much more comfortable behind the camera than in front of it. Thranduil, on the other hand, was amazing in front of the camera. He worked it like it was his job. So, Bard figured he wouldn’t mind a role reversal. “I know just what pose I want you to do, too. So come, put it on.” Bard removed the jacket off and handed it to Thranduil.

Thranduil chuckled, slipped out of his sheer robe and put on the jacket. God, he looked absolutely stunning – all that pale skin and white lace contrasting the rough, dark leather. He was a sight to behold.

“What pose do you want?”

“Stand there by the window, with your back to me – turn a little to your left and look over your shoulder.” Bard instructed. “Shake your hair out over the back of the jacket, too.”

Thranduil pulled his hair out from under the jacket, letting the long tresses spill over the back of the jacket. The contrast of his white-blonde hair against the black leather looked utterly magical, enchanting. Thranduil got into position and glanced over his shoulder, giving Bard a sultry look.

“Like this?”

Holy fuck. Thranduil could be a supermodel. “Yes, exactly like that.” Bard snared his digital camera and began snapping away. When his subject matter was so beautiful and so photogenic, it was easy to lose himself behind the lens.

Thranduil moved around, giving him various poses, the seduction in his eyes bright like a beacon. Bard couldn’t look away. He kept snapping, utterly captivated.

“Yes, like that, Thran. Don’t stop, come on, make love to me. Yes, use those eyes.”

Thranduil hummed, the sound a low growl. He chuckled and strode closer to Bard, practically eye fucking the camera.

“Just let go, baby – like the camera isn’t even here. It’s just you and me.”

_Snap, snap, snap._

“Use the Polaroid, too,” Thranduil purred, sliding onto the bed on his hands and knees, lowering his front half so his ass was higher than the rest of him. He flipped himself over, his long legs bent out in front of him as he leaned back to rest on his hands.

Bard stood in front of him, taking shots at different angles, capturing all the beauty his boyfriend possessed. He wasn’t sure such beauty could even translate to film; it wouldn’t do him justice. He grabbed the Polaroid and snapped a picture, letting his digital camera hang from its strap around his neck.

The photo printed and Bard held it in his hand, waiting for it to develop. Thranduil crawled towards Bard with a feral look in his eyes, so he snapped more pictures with his digital camera.

“God, look at you, Thran. You’re one sexy man.”

“You are,” Thranduil cooed, leaning up to run a hand over Bard’s cheek. He let the leather jacket fall from his shoulders. That was something Bard needed to capture, so he set the still-undeveloped Polaroid picture on the end of the bed and stepped back a bit to get all of Thranduil’s glorious body in the frame.

After dozens of gorgeous shots, Bard removed his camera from around his neck. Curiosity drew him back to the Polaroid photo, which had now developed.

“Shit, Thran – you are magnificent. Look at this.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the small photograph. Thranduil really was a model. He could be in magazines.

Thranduil’s hands were on his shoulders so he could see the picture as well. With a growl, Bard dropped the photo, twined his fingers into Thranduil’s hair and pulled him in for a deep kiss. The moan against his lips drew him to open his mouth. Thranduil tasted like expensive wine. He pushed his tongue between those pliant lips, deepening the kiss as Thranduil’s arms wound around his back.

He was pulled down, Thranduil’s hands winding into his hair, kissing hard. His knees ended up on the bed, between Thranduil’s open legs as he ran both hands up Thranduil’s sides and around to his back, holding him tight.

A thought struck Bard at that moment. He’d brought Thranduil’s Christmas gift with him. He eased back, their lips gently pulling apart. Thranduil let out a needy little moan, leaning up to nip at Bard’s lower lip.

“Baby,” Bard breathed, stroking Thranduil’s hair and pushing it back out of his face. “I have a confession.”

“What confession?” Thranduil murmured. “That you have an erection. You don’t need to confess that, I can already tell.” He grinned, tracing his fingers down the length of Bard’s arm.

Bard chuckled. His pants really were tight, painfully tight. He wanted to take them off.

_Not now! Get his gift, you horny bastard._

“I sorta, um – I got you a present, too.” Bard admitted, kissing Thranduil’s jaw.

“Oh, yeah?”

“It’s just something small, but when I saw it…I thought of you…”

“Aw, baby, that’s so sweet of you, but you know you didn’t have to get me anything…”

“Hey, none of that, now, I already gave that spiel, so you don’t have to,” Bard chuckled, pulling away from Thranduil and getting to his feet. He grinned when he had to adjust his pants. Thranduil’s eyes lingered upon his crotch and he smirked before sitting up on the edge of the bed. “It’s in my coat, so give me a minute and I’ll go get it, okay?”

Thranduil nodded and Bard retreated out of the bedroom, heading for the stairs, his heart fluttering in anticipation.

He hoped Thranduil would like his gift.

***

Thranduil lay on the bed, trying to will away his erection. These damned panties weren’t big enough to cover it. But, fuck, Bard really knew how to get him all worked up. It didn’t take much, just one look, one touch, a kiss. It sent Thranduil’s body into overdrive, craving more. He wanted so much more. He wanted to be consumed. He wanted to consume Bard and give him the greatest pleasure of his life. Bard deserved to be treasured, worshipped.

And Thranduil had plans. But first, he had to wait until Bard returned.

He wondered what Bard could have possibly gotten for him. He sincerely hoped his boyfriend didn’t spend a lot of money on him. Bard had already given him the greatest gift of all – his support, his affection, his love. All of that meant more to him than any material item. But, still, Thranduil was curious. He had no idea what to expect and the anticipation left him anxious and excited.

Before too long, Bard reappeared, producing a small wrapped box from behind his back. He approached Thranduil on the bed in a slow, steady stride.

“For you, doll,” Bard smiled, holding out the beautifully wrapped box.

Thranduil smiled back and took the box in his hand. “Ooh, fancy wrapping, babe. Did you do it yourself?”

“I did. And you can tear the paper.” Bard took a seat on the end of the bed beside him.

“You wrapped it so perfectly,” Thranduil protested. “But…okay.” He tore off the paper, revealing an ornate wooden box. His eyes widened and he traced his fingers along the little grooves around the perimeter of the box. “This is beautiful.”

“The box isn’t the gift,” Bard chuckled. “Open it.”

Thranduil flicked the metal clasp and eased the box open.

He gasped soundlessly as his hand flew up to his chest. His heart was flooded with warmth.

“Bard, oh my god!” The words came out shaky and weak, a poor display of his gratitude. But in that moment, Thranduil was completely speechless, overwhelmed.

Inside the box was a necklace. The pendant was a phoenix.

He swallowed hard as he touched it with a finger. He thought of Bard’s phoenix tattoo, of his words about the symbolism of the phoenix – rising from the ashes, turning a bad situation into something good, finding the strength within yourself to overcome and go on. That thought wracked him and in those few seconds he felt he might cry.

“Do you like it?” Bard asked, grinning widely.

“Oh, baby. It’s wonderful. I love it!” Thranduil took the necklace from the box to examine it, rubbing his thumb over the phoenix.

“I wanted you to have it because we’re apart so often, and I thought it would be a good reminder that I’m always with you.”

“Bard, it’s…it’s _you_. You’re my phoenix.”

“Yeah, it’s my tat. This way, even when we’re apart, you’ll still have a piece of me.”

Thranduil sighed, a veil of pure contentment washing over him. How was he so lucky to have such a thoughtful lover? “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever given me, babe. Thank you so much.” He flung his arms around Bard, pulling him in for a tight hug as he nuzzled his face into the crook of Bard’s neck. “You really are the best.”

“I just wanted to give you something to remind you that you’re loved, especially when you’re having a hard time remembering it. And here,” Bard said, easing away from Thranduil. “Try it on. There’s something else about it.”

Thranduil held the necklace out to Bard. “Can you do it for me?”

Bard took the necklace with a nod. “Of course, love.” Bard stood from the bed and Thranduil shifted slightly, gathering his hair over his shoulder so Bard could thread the chain around his neck and fasten it.  Thranduil turned to face Bard, and Bard arranged the necklace on his chest. “There. Good, it’s just the right length.” Thranduil looked down to the phoenix, then back up at Bard.

The smile on Bard’s face, the admiration in his eyes, was enough to melt Thranduil’s heart.

“I wanted it to hang over your heart.” Bard said.

“…because you’re always in my heart,” Thranduil whispered, recalling Bard’s words from the other night when he’d had his breakdown and Bard was there to comfort him.

Bard nodded. “This is my heart,” he said, holding onto the phoenix between two fingers before letting it go, “and I wanted it to be near yours.”

Thranduil had never been more touched in his life. “Baby, I am so incredibly grateful to have you in my life. This means so much to me.”

“The chain is called an infinity chain. It’s made up of all these tiny little infinity symbols.”

“Bard,” Thranduil said, sure he was about to lose his voice and start crying out of sheer joy. He bit his tongue and Bard gently stroked his hair.

“Because I hope I can be in your heart forever.”

“That is so cheesy, but the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“I hope it isn’t a presumptuous thing to say.”

Thranduil shook his head. “No, babe, it’s not presumptuous at all. You will be in my heart forever. So it’s perfect.”

“God, Thran. You make me so happy.”

“You make me happier than humanly possible.”

“We really are a bunch of saps,” Bard chuckled, sliding onto the bed beside Thranduil, entwining their fingers.

“But you’re _my_ sap and I’m yours.”

“Always,” Bard said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Thranduil’s lips.

The kiss started off chaste and innocent but it didn’t take long before it grew more intense, to where Bard had pushed Thranduil onto his back and used his knees to spread Thranduil’s legs apart as he nestled between them. A low, feral growl escaped Bard’s lips as he nipped and licked down Thranduil’s neck, drawing Thranduil to spread his legs wider, eventually wrapping them around Bard’s waist. His fingers pulled frantically at Bard’s shirt, yanking it up and over his head. He tossed it onto the floor before showering Bard’s chest with kisses.

“You’re so beautiful,” Thranduil said between kisses, rubbing his fingers over Bard’s chest.

“My sweet Thran doll, you’re so beautiful, so pretty, so perfect,” Bard breathed, trailing his fingers down Thranduil’s ribs, tightening them on his waist as he eased away so he could look down upon Thranduil. “God, your body is exquisite.”

Thranduil moaned, Bard’s touch sending shivers down his spine. At this point, his cock was so hard it was throbbing beneath his lace panties. He wanted to remove all his clothing, wanted to be completely bare for Bard.

“I want to be naked,” Thranduil finally said, reaching for the clasps of the garter belt, unhooking them from the stockings.

Bard’s hand found his, stopping him. “Let me undress you,” he purred, kissing all the way down Thranduil’s neck, over his chest, only stopping once he reached Thranduil’s nipples. God, his body was trembling; he was so sensitive, about to combust into flames at any second. He whimpered when Bard licked and suckled his nipples, teasing one and then the other. “But I want you to keep the stockings on. And your necklace.”

Thranduil hummed in acquiescence. “Unwrap your present, baby.”

He felt Bard’s smile and before he knew it Bard was working to shed him of the garter belt. He slipped it off and dropped it somewhere on the floor. Then, his thumbs hooked into the waistband of the panties and when he looked at Thranduil, his smirk was devilish. Thranduil smirked back and looked down to where Bard had eased the panties down ever so slightly. It seemed almost lewd the way his cock peaked out from beneath the fabric.

“My sweet doll is so hard,” Bard rasped, pulling the panties down further until there was nothing left to cover his cock.

“For you,” he said, watching how Bard’s eyes roved over his body.

“Can I tell you what would really turn me on?”

Thranduil nodded. “Yes, please do.”

Bard shifted back on his heels, pulling the panties all the way down to Thranduil’s ankles. He took hold of Thranduil’s feet, removing the panties and tossing them over his shoulder before kissing his way up the inside of Thranduil’s leg. He stopped just as he passed the hem of the stockings.

Oh, fucking god.

Thranduil’s body writhed and he bit his lip as Bard shuffled to grab his camera. Thranduil couldn’t hold back his smirk. Did Bard want to take pornographic pictures of him? If he wanted to take pictures now, then they would definitely be pornographic and not simply tasteful nudes. Tasteful nudes did not include erections.

“You want pictures?” Thranduil asked, his voice coming out higher-pitched than he’d expected. It made him sound needy and desperate. But, god, who was he kidding? He _was_ needy and desperate. He wanted Bard so bad and there was no denying it.

“I was thinking…”

“Always dangerous,” Thranduil grinned.

Bard chuckled. “I, uh, wanted to get a shot of your face. Your, um, orgasm face. You can say no if it makes you uncomfortable…”

Thranduil’s hum was amused. He pushed himself up on his elbows, gazing into Bard’s eyes. Why did Bard’s suggestion turn him on so much? Maybe it was the exhibitionist in him. Maybe he just wanted so badly to please Bard, to give his amazing boyfriend anything and everything he desired.

Whatever it was, it set a fire inside of Thranduil.

“Baby, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all. Just one question, though. Do you want it to be real or do you want me to pose?”

“Real,” Bard grinned.

“Well then, make it happen.” Thranduil shuffled up the bed to lie back against the mountain of pillows.

Bard crawled towards him, wasting no time. His hand wrapped around Thranduil’s cock and he began stroking oh, so slowly. Thranduil’s eyes fluttered shut as a long moan escaped his lips.

“Such a pretty cock,” Bard cooed, his grip tightening as he quickened the pace of his hand.

Thranduil moaned, his legs spreading as Bard’s other hand cupped his balls and began to tug them gently. “Mmm, you fucker.”

“Yes, my perfect doll, _your_ fucker. God, I’m gonna fuck you so good.”

Those words drew a shaky whimper from deep in Thranduil’s throat. God, it had been so long since such a desperate moan had left Thranduil’s mouth, he was unaware he still had to ability to make such noises… until now, until Bard. He couldn’t remember the last time someone actually wanted to make him feel good. He’d been so used to being nothing more than a vessel for the pleasure of others.

How was it so easy to get lost in Bard’s touch? The feelings crashed over Thranduil like a tidal wave, strong enough to pull him under and drown out all other thoughts. Nothing else mattered. All that mattered right now were the sensations Bard bestowed upon him. It was the most worshipping, caring touch; so soft and gentle, yet so tenderly possessive and rough in its carnal desire. Thranduil savoured it, appreciated it like a desert drought might appreciate a heavy rainfall. How had he become so lucky?

Thranduil could tell just how much Bard wanted him, wanted to see him lose all control and come undone. Bard’s lust was evident in his eyes, his pupils dilated as he stroked Thranduil’s cock with more intensity, harder and faster, urging Thranduil on with his words of admiration.

“I want you to come for me, pretty baby. You’re so beautiful like this.” Bard’s eyes travelled slowly over Thranduil’s body, but always seemed to return to watch his own hand rubbing Thranduil’s cock. The sight of himself bringing pleasure to Thranduil clearly turned him on.

From his nest of pillows, Thranduil watched the way Bard stroked him. He couldn’t deny how good Bard’s hand looked wrapped around his cock. Thranduil’s moan was breathy as he tapped at Bard’s arm. If Bard wanted a picture, he’d better ease off or hurry up and get the damned camera ready.

“Baby, you better get the camera.”

When Bard looked down at him, he wore a self-satisfied smirk. That fucking bastard. The look on Bard’s face made Thranduil whimper and claw at the bedsheets.

“You close, sweet doll?”

“Mmhmm,” Thranduil hummed, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tossed his head back.

Bard snared the camera in his free hand and passed it to Thranduil. “Get it ready. And I’ll get you ready.” Thranduil grinned. He couldn’t say no to such a smug face.

He fumbled around with the camera, almost dropping it on his face before he turned it to the proper setting. Bard took the camera back from him, still working Thranduil’s cock with his other hand, although with less intensity as he had been. Of course he didn’t want Thranduil to go before the camera was ready.

“Hold it with one hand,” Bard instructed, slipping the strap around his neck.

Thranduil obeyed, helping Bard hold the camera steady. Bard angled the camera lens directly at Thranduil’s face.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispered as he gripped Thranduil’s cock firmly and sped up his stroking. “I wanna see you wrecked.”

“God, yes, ruin me,” Thranduil whimpered. He struggled to keep his hand on the camera, but soon forgot about it altogether. His head lolled to the side, but was quickly eased back towards the camera with a gentle touch of Bard’s fingers. “So good,” he heaved a breath, panting heavily.

“Look at me, love.”

“Bard,” he moaned, drawing out the word. His muscles tensed, but he kept his eyes on Bard. Thranduil’s body was coiled tighter than a spring, so close to its release. “Fuck, keep doing that. Don’t stop.” When had his voice changed? It sounded strange to his ears, almost an octave higher than usual.

“Yes, baby, come,” Bard urged.

It didn’t take long – only a half-dozen more strokes of Bard’s hand – before Thranduil’s entire body spasmed, his eyes tightening shut, his mouth falling half-open as Bard milked the orgasm out of him. A string of incoherent moans poured from his lips as the sounds of the camera’s shutter went off above him. The shutter sounded again, over and over, the photos being taken just as quickly as Thranduil’s chest rose and fell in his state of euphoria. He looked up through lidded eyes, lowering his lashes as he bit his bottom lip. He had to make sure Bard would get a good shot.

The expression on Bard’s face as he gazed upon Thranduil was nothing short of admiration, as if he were witnessing all Seven Wonders of the World at once.

Maybe that was what love looked like.

With what little remaining strength he had left, Thranduil propped himself up on his elbows to give Bard a coy look, his bottom lip still caught between his teeth. Did he look as desecrated as he felt? Probably. Bard blinked slowly, as if his brain were still trying to catch up with the image laid out before him, and let out an amused chuckle. A smirk tugged at the corners of Thranduil’s lips. It seemed Bard liked the way Thranduil looked when he was desecrated, especially when Bard was the one who put him in such a state.

Without warning, Bard ran a finger over Thranduil’s chest, swiping up the come he’d so expertly drawn from Thranduil’s body only moments ago. Thranduil’s coy expression turned wicked. Oh, he knew exactly what Bard wanted him to do. So, he opened his mouth, leaning forward to take Bard’s finger between his lips, sucking gently, drawing the action out long enough for Bard to appreciate it. Bard grinned from behind his camera and snapped a picture before easing his finger away from Thranduil’s mouth. But Thranduil made a quick move, grasping Bard’s wrist and taking his finger back into his mouth. He twirled his tongue around it, sucking it deeply all while keeping his eyes locked with Bard’s.

“God, doll, you’re insatiable,” Bard sighed.

Thranduil moaned around Bard’s finger, finally releasing it with a pop. “I am,” he said, licking his lips. “Now, lie down, baby.”

He eased the camera from around Bard’s neck and set it beside them before he slid off the bed. He snared the closest towel he could find, wiped himself down and settled back onto the bed next to Bard, who was now lying where Thranduil had been. Thranduil nestled in beside Bard as Bard wrapped his arm around Thranduil, pulling him closer. The camera was still beside them, and although Thranduil was curious and badly wanted to see the pictures Bard had taken of him, there was something he wanted to do even more. Something he craved.

He shifted to face Bard, and let his hands rove over Bard’s chest, spreading his fingers wide and savouring the warmth beneath them. He caressed lightly, leaning in to catch Bard’s lips in his own. He kissed eagerly, draping a leg over one of Bard’s.

“I love you,” Thranduil whispered, lowering his head to litter kisses down Bard’s neck.

He felt the vibration of Bard’s hum against his lips. “I love you, too, Thran.” A hand twined into Thranduil’s hair, massaging gently. “You’re such a treasure.”

“So are you. _My_ treasure.” Thranduil’s kisses grew hungrier, turning into licks and nips as he moved lower, down to Bard’s clavicle and then to his chest.

He rubbed his fingers over Bard’s pectorals, dragging his fingertips lightly over Bard’s nipples. He took one into his mouth, licking and suckling and nipping. The sounds Bard made were needy, desperate for what Thranduil might do next. The thought almost made Thranduil smirk. He hoped Bard would appreciate his efforts. Although, it wasn’t entirely altruistic. Thranduil thoroughly enjoyed what he was doing, what he would eventually do.

Thranduil continued moving lower, kissing down Bard’s abs, around his navel, until his kisses were just above the waist band of Bard’s pants. One hand abandoned its work on Bard’s nipple, deftly popping open the button of Bard’s jeans and pulling down the zipper.

Bard’s cock was so hard. Thranduil was surprised he’d managed to keep his pants done up for so long. He must be aching to get out of them.

“Off,” Thranduil said, hooking his fingers in Bard’s pants, pulling at them roughly. Bard bent over and yanked them off along with his underwear, tossing both onto the floor with a soft thud.

“Better?” Bard asked.

Thranduil nodded, glancing unashamedly at Bard’s cock. God, it was perfect. So thick and muscular, so mouth-watering. How good would it feel to have it in his mouth? How amazing would it feel inside him?

With Bard naked beside him, Thranduil crowded closer, rubbing his hands up and down Bard’s torso, trailing the pads of his fingers lightly down to Bard’s groins, stopping at his thighs. As much as he wanted to touch Bard’s cock and put the poor man out of his misery, Thranduil couldn’t help but tease. Teasing always produced a much more rewarding reaction than diving right in with no restraint.

“Thran,” Bard growled.

Thranduil’s kisses morphed into a grin, but he kept inching his head lower, kissing all around Bard’s cock without touching it.

Finally, he took Bard’s cock in his hand, stroking up and down only once. Bard shuddered, a trembling moan filling the air.

Fuck. Thranduil couldn’t wait any longer. He was probably even more desperate than Bard. He wanted Bard’s big, gorgeous cock in his mouth, now.

Lowering his head, he pressed a chaste kiss to the head of Bard’s cock, leaving his mouth there to linger a fraction of a second longer so he could flick his tongue over the slit. It was so wet and slick already. Thranduil kissed it again, licking his lips.

Above him, he felt Bard’s body tense.

He stopped. Had Thranduil completely misread the situation? Isn’t this what Bard wanted?

“What’s wrong?” Thranduil asked, looking up.

“You don’t have to, doll.”

Thranduil sighed. Couldn’t Bard tell that he wanted to? God, he wanted to do this more than anything. He wanted to make Bard feel good. Did Bard not want him? “I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

“I just don’t want to you feel pressured, or…degraded.”

“Why would I feel degraded?” He had an idea why Bard might think like that.

“Well, um, I hate to bring this up right now, but Madison thought it was a disgusting, degrading thing to do. She hated it.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes in spite of himself. “I don’t think that, babe. I see it as an act of worship and you deserve to be worshiped.” He offered a smile, crawling up to press a reassuring kiss to Bard’s lips.

“It’s been over eight years, Thran,” Bard breathed softly against Thranduil’s lips.

“Eight years since you’ve had a blow job?” Thranduil’s eyes widened as he pulled back to regard Bard. “Really? That long?”

“Yeah,” Bard nodded ruefully. “She got the idea in my head that I was disgusting for wanting it, so eventually I stopped asking and just learned to go without. It seems like it’s not exactly something women are enthusiastic about.”

“Psh,” Thranduil dismissed. “Well, I’m not a woman – unless you want me to be – and I know how good it feels so I would never deny you. And, as a matter of fact, I enjoy doing it. It turns me on to pleasure my lover.” He kissed Bard’s neck, stroking all those unruly curls out of Bard’s eyes.

Bard raised a brow. “Oh, yeah? You like doing it?”

Thranduil smirked. “Not only do I like it, but I’m also quite good at it, too.”

“I bet you are.”

“Want to find out?”

Bard’s grin was all the encouragement Thranduil needed to sink lower, running his hands all over Bard’s body before he gripped one hand around the base of Bard’s cock. He pumped it a few times, looking up at Bard.

Bard groaned and bit his bottom lip. Such a sexy, eager expression. Thranduil knew that he wanted it bad. “Fuck, doll. Put me out of my misery, then.”

Thranduil moaned, licking his lips. He stroked Bard’s cock very slowly before pressing kisses along the underside. He trailed his tongue from root to tip, repeating the action a few times before finally, taking the head of Bard’s cock into his mouth. Bard’s moan urged him on, so he sunk his head down further, taking as much as he could into his mouth, keeping his hand firmly around the base.

“Oh, god, doll.” Bard rasped out a shaky breath. “Your mouth is so warm.”

Thranduil hummed and began bobbing his head, sucking gently at first, pumping his hand along with the movement of his mouth. He felt Bard’s hand in his hair, so he picked up the pace, taking Bard’s cock even deeper down his throat. He wondered if the sound of him gagging would turn Bard on even more?

He let Bard’s cock hit the back of his throat before coming up for a breath. “God, I want to choke on this big cock,” he mumbled, voice ragged.

When he wrapped his lips back around Bard’s cock, he sucked faster, rougher. He pumped his fist in rhythm with his mouth, and when he gagged it elicited an aroused moan from Bard. The hands in Thranduil’s hair held his head in place, guiding the tempo. Did Bard have any idea just how much that gesture turned Thranduil on?

“Yeah, baby, fuck my mouth,” Thranduil said in a low, erotic tone. He cupped Bard’s balls in his hand, rubbing and tugging lightly.

“Fuck,” Bard growled. He bucked his hips off the bed, the head of his cock sliding down the back of Thranduil’s throat.

By the sounds of Bard’s breathing, he was close. Thranduil knew it would be quick – of course, it would – this was the first blow job Bard was getting in over eight years!

“Mmm, pretty doll,” Bard moaned, panting heavily. “Oh god, I’m gonna come—”

Thranduil kept his pace the same, knowing now was not the time to slow down or speed up. He hummed out a few needy whimpers and within seconds, Bard’s hips thrust forward in a final shudder, his seed spilling down the back of Thranduil’s throat. Bard’s fingers tightened in Thranduil’s hair as Thranduil swallowed down the warmth that filled his mouth.

God, Bard tasted fucking divine.

He released Bard’s spent cock from his mouth and slid up the bed to curl his body around Bard’s. For a while, Bard didn’t speak, he just laid beside Thranduil as his breath gradually went back to normal. Sluggishly, he shifted, leaning in and catching Thranduil’s lips in a soft, tender kiss.

“You’re so good to me, babe. That was amazing. I, just – holy shit,” he chuckled, stroking Thranduil’s hair. “I can’t believe it.”

Thranduil chucked, too. “You better get used to it, baby. I like pleasuring you.”

“God, doll. That was the best blow job I’ve ever had in my life.”

“I’m glad, love,” Thranduil hummed. He nestled his head into the crook of Bard’s neck, absently rubbing his finger tips in circles upon Bard’s chest.

“You know, you’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and more,” Bard whispered.

“I feel the same way about you, babe. You’re a dream come true.”

After another long kiss, Thranduil yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Baby doll is tired,” Bard murmured. “I am, too.”

“Sleep, then.” Thranduil’s eyes began to close, but the warmth in his chest was palpable and would likely remain even as he slept. “Jag älskar dig.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means I love you.”

“Rwy'n dy garu di,” Bard breathed into Thranduil’s hair. “I love you.”

With his head on Bard’s chest, Thranduil could hear the faint thumping of Bard’s heart.

The rhythmic sound soothed him and it was the last thing he heard as he drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is Christmas Eve and Christmas Day! :)


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas! Ho bloody ho!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned from hibernation to bring you this. It's been over a month but at least it's long! The second longest chapter I've written. Damned Christmas. Thank god I'm through with that. 
> 
> Forgive any mistakes - it takes a reaaaaally long time to edit 41 pages on Word.
> 
> Thanks for your patience and a big thank you to everyone who reads and leaves kudos or comments - especially comments - it is so nice to hear from people! <3 You're the best

Bard awoke to the sound of soft breaths beside him. He groaned, stretching his limbs and opening his eyes. Next to him, Thranduil lay fast asleep. He faced away from Bard, curled around a fleece blanket. Bard smiled as he recalled last night’s events. The way he’d hovered above Thranduil, touching him like he’d never touched anyone before… Taking pictures of such an intimate moment… Letting Thranduil offer so willingly to do something Bard had been long denied…

He could still feel those lips, that warm mouth. The thought was enough to make Bard’s cock twitch in interest. He sighed in contentment, cuddling closer to Thranduil, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s waist to spoon him. The position wasn’t doing anything to help his half hard cock. So he eased his lower body a few inches away from Thranduil so that his cock would not be directly against Thranduil’s ass. Maybe that would help to ebb his mounting arousal. It was too early in the morning to feel this way.

With a yawn, Bard noticed the time on the clock. It wasn’t yet seven o’clock, so he rested his head back on the pillow, pressing his forehead between Thranduil’s shoulder blades. He placed soft kisses upon Thranduil’s skin, tracing his fingertips lightly over Thranduil’s ribs.

Thranduil shifted in his arms, turning around and coming face to face with Bard. His eyelids were heavy and he blinked slowly, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth.

“Hi,” Thranduil whispered, nuzzling closer, easing his face into Bard’s neck.

“Hi, doll,” Bard said, kissing the top of Thranduil’s head. His long hair was a mess, strands in his face, puffed up on the top like a nest. Bard swept stray tendrils back off of Thranduil’s forehead, relishing in every small sound that escaped Thranduil’s lips.

He eased away enough that he could see Thranduil’s face. His eyes had fallen shut again, but his smile remained. He looked peaceful, at ease. This close, Bard could see every detail of Thranduil’s beautiful face - the length of his lashes, the way they curled slightly, how smooth his porcelain skin was, the fine lines on his soft, pink lips. He was utterly mesmerizing. Thranduil’s eyes flickered open, looking directly into Bard’s. That shade of blue was so pale and crystalline and at this short distance, Bard could see all the little flecks of white that radiated outward from Thranduil’s pupil like a sunburst.  It looked like the texture of crackled glass, so delicate and fragile in its beauty.

Thranduil stroked his thumb over Bard’s cheek and offered a tender kiss to Bard’s lips before closing his eyes again. Bard’s body relaxed; he felt no tension in his muscles, he was completely at ease. He fell in and out of sleep for the next hour, holding Thranduil close to his chest as he dozed.

When he awoke again, he found himself with his head resting on Thranduil’s chest, a hand caressing Thranduil’s thigh. Every so often, when he moved his arm, he would accidentally graze Thranduil’s cock. It wasn’t something he was used to – being naked in bed with another person, especially another person who seemed to be so comfortable with their own body. Bard tried not to over think it, tried not to worry if the accidental touches bothered Thranduil. He was sure Thranduil would let him know if something he did bothered him. He was also highly aware of how his own cock was pressed against Thranduil’s leg.

He told himself how foolish he was for worrying that something as innocuous as the sensation of a naked body next to his could bother Thranduil. Hell, how could it after what they’d done together last night? Thranduil had willingly taken Bard’s cock in his mouth and swallowed every last drop of the orgasm he’d practically ripped from Bard’s body! So, the feeling of Bard’s cock against his leg was nothing to fret about.

He traced patterns up and down Thranduil’s ribs, absently replaying the things Thranduil had said to him before showing off his oral skills. He’d said he liked doing it, and that he was good at it. Unbidden, the words Bard had read on that website crept into his mind, flooding his thoughts. _Sex addicts and reckless, impulsive sex_. He didn’t want to entertain such thoughts, but he couldn’t help but wonder just how many people Thranduil had orally pleasured in his lifetime to come to the conclusion that it was one of his talents.

Thranduil moved, yawning and stretching both arms above his head, effectively drawing Bard from his thoughts. Bard slid his head off Thranduil’s chest, propping his head up with an arm as he looked at the expression on Thranduil’s face. He looked truly happy. The things he’d done in his past and whoever he’d done them with shouldn’t mean anything to Bard. Thranduil was with him now, not anyone else. The past should not matter – did not matter. Bard didn’t want to let it define Thranduil, just as much as he expected Thranduil did not want to be defined by it. And, if he was honest with himself, Bard liked that Thranduil knew what he was doing sexually, since he himself didn’t have much experience. It was good that one of them knew what they were doing. And, fuck, Thranduil really did give him the most amazing blow job of his life. Bard had never thought it could feel so good. So why worry?

With Thranduil’s arms above his head, Bard caught sight of the cut on his wrist.

“Mmm, I’m so lazy,” Thranduil drawled, yawning again. It caused Bard to yawn as well.

Bard reached for Thranduil’s wrist – it was the one closest to him – and surprisingly, Thranduil let him take it. He looked at the cut which had begun to heal and pressed a soft kiss upon it.

Thranduil hummed sleepily. “You’re sweet, baby.”

“Just want to check up on my doll, make sure he’s okay.”

“I’m okay. It’s healing.”

“That’s good. I hope you’re okay, too. We never really talked about that night after it happened.”

“I appreciate what you did for me, babe. But, I really don’t like talking about it. It’s so embarrassing when I think about it now that I’m not in that shitty mood anymore. Those moods really cloud my judgment.”

“Yeah, I know, doll. As long as you’re feeling better, then I’m happy.”

“I’m feeling much better. Especially after last night,” Thranduil grinned.

“Oh, god, me, too,” Bard grinned back. “I, uh - I have to tell you something, though. Best to get it out of the way now.” His expression sobered.

Thranduil’s brows creased and he pursed his lips. “What do you have to tell me? It’s something serious, isn’t it?”

“I guess you could say that,” Bard conceded. “I got called in to the police station the other day...”

Thranduil made a face, rolling flat on his back, eyes staring up at the ceiling. He took a breath before he spoke. “About that day, right? How did it go?”

“Yeah. It was fine. I told them what happened, what I witnessed, they asked me some questions for the camera—”

“Oh, god. What did they ask you?”

Bard didn’t want to bring up the questions he’d been asked, but he wasn’t going to lie to Thranduil or sweep it under the rug, either. “Well, they pretty much asked what we were to each other, if we were in a relationship when everything happened. I told them no, we were only friends getting to know each other, but that since then our relationship has evolved.”

Thranduil nodded, prompting Bard to continue.

“And then they asked me if we were in a sexual relationship, and I told them no.”

“Should’ve told them to mind their own fucking business,” Thranduil snorted.

“Then they asked me even stranger things.”

“Like what?”

“It was that one Officer, the bald one. It was as if he and the Investigator were playing good cop bad cop—”

“What did he ask?”

Bard swallowed. “If we had sex, how many times, if we’d done it before that day, how you liked it, if you liked it rough, if I liked to have power over you, if that was something you liked as well, and uh, if you ever engaged in…rape fantasies…”

“Typical,” Thranduil said. His voice was even, steady, so it was difficult for Bard to decipher his emotions.

“Are you okay?”

Thranduil nodded. “Yeah, it is what is it, babe. Thanks for going in and doing that interview. You didn’t have to, you know, so it was very kind of you to do that for me.”

“Any decent person would’ve done the same,” Bard reasoned.

“Babe, you’re more than just a decent person.” Thranduil rolled onto his side and slid closer to Bard, winding a hand into Bard’s hair and pulling him in for a kiss.

“I, uh, I have something else to tell you,” Bard confessed when Thranduil eased out of the kiss.

“Yeah?”

“I did some research about your BPD the other night. I’m trying to educate myself so I can better understand you.”

“That’s nice of you, baby. I understand if it’s overwhelming, though.”

“Well, one website was…very negative. It sort of scared me.”

Thranduil frowned.

“It didn’t so much scare me for myself, but for you. For what you have to go through,” Bard explained. “But, I mean, there was this list of traits and it was… a lot to take in. And I didn’t want to believe everything it said, so I knew I should probably talk to you about it. You know yourself better than any stupid website, so I figured you’d be able to reassure me.”

“Was it that one website that warns people to stay away from borderlines because we all lack empathy and are selfish and unable to feel love?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. How’d you know?”

“I’ve read it before. It’s very biased. But it’s not untrue, though. For a lot of people, that is the truth. Not for everyone, of course, and especially not of those who are willing to receive treatment. But, I get it, baby; it’s a shitload of information to handle. I bet you wondered which of those traits apply to me, right?”

Bard was slow to nod. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to know. “Yeah, I admit, I did wonder that.”

“If you’d like, we could maybe go through the stuff on that website and I can dispel any bullshit for you. Do you think that would help?” Thranduil offered a warm smile.

“Yeah, doll, thanks. That would be great,” Bard smiled back, reaching out to brush his fingers along Thranduil’s jaw. “We don’t have to do it now, though. It’s a bit too early for something so serious.”

“Mmm, I agree.” Thranduil shifted in Bard’s arms, trailing his fingers over Bard’s ribs, then lower until he reached Bard’s tattoo. He traced the lines with a long finger, humming softly. “I love your tattoo,” Thranduil said absently. “Would you ever get any more?”

“I’ve always wanted more. If it wasn’t so expensive, I’d probably be covered,” Bard chuckled.

“Mmm,” Thranduil moaned. “You’d look good with full sleeves.” His breath was hot against Bard’s chest. The sensation made Bard tremble, sighing gently before brushing a hand over Thranduil’s hair.

“Maybe one day,” Bard finally said. He didn’t want to tell Thranduil that it would likely never happen. He couldn’t afford to spend money frivolously on himself. So, in an effort to remove the focus from himself, he asked Thranduil, “Would you ever get a tat?”

Thranduil hummed in contemplation. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never really thought about it. And I’m so picky. I’d be afraid I’d end up regretting it. I, uh, I do have piercings, though.”

“Yeah, I know you do. The three in your ear. They look good.” Bard had glimpsed Thranduil’s ear piercings a few times – when he pulled his hair back or tucked it behind his ear, when he was lying beneath Bard… They weren’t regular ear piercings, not in his earlobe. Bard didn’t even know what they were called. Was there a name for the places in his ear he had pierced?

“Oh, you like them? I’ve had them for years.”

“Yeah, I like them. You look good with a little metal,” Bard grinned. “What would you call them? Cartilage piercings? Do they have specific names? I’m sorta clueless.”

Thranduil chuckled. “This one is called a forward helix, this one is a rook and this one is a tragus. I have another piercing, but I doubt you’ve seen it.”

“Another? Where?”

“In my nose. I have my septum pierced,” Thranduil said, magically making the piercing appear by flipping it out of his nose. “I just wear this retainer and keep it flipped up all the time,” he explained, adjusting the small piece of metal that somewhat resembled an oversized staple.

Bard was a bit shocked; he didn’t expect Thranduil to have such a piercing. But he couldn’t help but be intrigued by it. It did look good. Thranduil pulled it off very, very well. “Wow, doll. It looks really good. It suits you. Why don’t you ever wear it down so it’s visible?”

Thranduil shrugged. “I got it when I was seventeen. I wore it down then, but now I just feel too old, like people would look at me weird. I wouldn’t wear this ugly-ass retainer, though. I have rings.”

“People wouldn’t look at you weird, and if they did, that’s their problem. I’d love to see the rings one day.”

“I promise I’ll show you sometime,” Thranduil said, flipping the piercing back up and out of sight.

“I’ll hold you to that, my pretty rebel,” Bard grinned, ruffling up Thranduil’s hair.

Thranduil laughed and curled a long leg over Bard’s. He could feel that Thranduil’s stockings were still on. Only now they were bunched around his ankles.

“You’ve still got your stockings on, doll?”

“I never had a chance to take them off,” Thranduil said. He held up the covers – giving Bard a perfect view of his naked body – and pulled off the stockings. “There, that’s better. They were getting uncomfortable, but I was too lazy to move to take them off.”

“That’s pretty lazy, babe,” Bard chuckled. He lifted the covers, making it seem like he wanted to shift his position, but really he just wanted to get another look at Thranduil’s body.

“If you want to see, all you have to do is ask,” Thranduil said with a hint of amusement, as if reading Bard’s mind.

“Hmm?” Bard smiled, playing dumb.

Thranduil sat up, looking down at Bard from over his shoulder. “I need to get up anyway. I need to shower.” He slid out from beneath the sheets, his long tousled hair cascading down his back. God, his skin was so pale and flawless, and his body was practically hairless. It seemed all the hair he had was on his head. Bard wasn’t sure why that turned him on so much.

Thranduil turned and shot Bard a sly look, which Bard quickly returned with a bite of his lip. “Thran, you’re stunning. And so…hairless.”

A snort. “I like being smooth like a dolphin.”

Bard laughed. “And you are. So soft. And then there’s me…” Bard shook his head. He still couldn’t believe someone as beautiful as Thranduil actually wanted to be with boring, old him.

“Mmm, yes. Then there’s you. So rugged and handsome. Such a sexy body.” Thranduil walked around the bed, leaning down on Bard’s side. He brushed a hand through Bard’s hair. “And when your hair falls in your eyes… God, I’m done for.”

“Thran,” Bard grinned. Did Thranduil really think these things about him? It was hard to comprehend, as he did not see himself in the same light.

Thranduil trailed his hand down to Bard’s chest. He played with Bard’s chest hair softly, rubbing it in circular motions. “I also like that you’re not hairless.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s sexy,” Thranduil bent his head, placing a kiss in the center of Bard’s chest. “We look good together, I think. A nice contrast.”

Bard hummed in agreement. He never really thought about it before now, but it was true – he and Thranduil really did contrast one another nicely. “Like leather and lace,” he offered with a grin.

“You’re leather and I’m lace,” Thranduil smiled, tilting his head as he stroked Bard’s cheek.

Thranduil strutted off and disappeared into the bathroom. Bard figured he was going to take a shower, but after a few minutes, the door opened a crack and he stuck his head out. His hair looked to be brushed, as it was no longer puffy and tangled. He smirked at Bard and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but stopped and walked over to where Bard was still nestled in the bed.

“What’s up? Forgot your towel?” Bard asked.

Thranduil shook his head. “No, the towels are already in there. I was, uh, wondering if you wanted to shower with me… Save water…”

Bard smiled. He didn’t have to be asked twice. He tossed the covers off and practically flung himself out of the bed. Thranduil’s expression shifted and he took Bard’s hand and led him into the bathroom, closing the door behind them.

“You sure this is okay?” Bard asked.

“Yeah, baby,” Thranduil said, stepping into the large shower enclosure and turning on one of the showerheads. Water streamed down like rain, so different from the dated shower-in-tub Bard was used to. “Get in.” Thranduil stood beneath the water, small rivulets running down his body, dripping from his fingertips.

With a grin, Bard stepped into the shower, unable to take his eyes off Thranduil. All that long blond hair was stuck to his face. One strand in particular stuck to his lips, so Bard reached out a finger to brush it away. Thranduil smiled, leaning his head back into the steady stream of water, his hair slicking back out of his face. “You can turn the other showerhead on. That’s why there’s two, silly. So you don’t have to wait.”

“Right, right,” Bard said, fumbling to turn on the showerhead he stood directly beneath. He adjusted the temperature, savouring the feeling of the warm water upon his skin.

Beside him, Thranduil lathered body wash into a loofah and tossed it at Bard with a chuckle. Bard had always used his hands, so it was quite the treat for him to wash himself with something a little more luxurious.  Thranduil washed his hair quickly and added some thick conditioner, which he left on while he soaped his body. Bard could feel Thranduil’s eyes on him, so he glanced over to see if his intuition was correct. Yes, Thranduil was staring at him, eyes trailing up and down Bard’s body, never once looking away.

“Doll, you’re staring,” Bard chuckled, rinsing his hair.

“Am I?” Thranduil grinned. “Well, you’re giving me a lot to stare at. You’re extremely attractive, you know that?”

Bard’s face felt hot but it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water pouring down upon him. Thranduil’s words really touched him. He didn’t know whether to feel confident about it, or embarrassed. “Thran,” Bard began to protest.

“No, no, don’t dismiss it, babe. I think you are gorgeous, so you just have to learn to accept it, okay?”

Bard nodded. “Okay. Thank you, doll. But…I still think you’re the gorgeous one.”

“We can be gorgeous together,” Thranduil attested as he rinsed conditioner from his hair.

It took all of Bard’s willpower not to pin Thranduil against the wall and devour his lips in a heated kiss. They’d both finished washing, yet Thranduil made no move to turn off the water. He smirked at Bard, stepped closer and did what Bard had tried so hard to resist. Those long, elegant fingers snaked around Bard’s ribs, clutching his back and pulling him closer. Thranduil shuffled backwards, pulling Bard’s body along with him, as if engaging in some sort of passionate dance until his back was against the tiles and Bard leaned in to capture those plump, wet lips in a deep kiss. Thranduil was quick to return the kiss, nipping and licking at Bard’s lips as his hands rubbed up and down Bard’s back. Such temptation made Bard’s hands wander lower until he grasped Thranduil’s glutes firmly in both hands. God, such a sumptuous ass. He rubbed and kneaded, working his way down the backs of Thranduil’s thighs as his kisses trailed lower. When he sucked gently at the skin in the crook of Thranduil’s neck, a small whimper broke free from Thranduil’s lips.

“Baby,” Thranduil cooed, sliding one hand between them to tease Bard’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Bard groaned, gripping his fingers tighter on Thranduil’s ass. “You turn an act as innocent as showering into a sinful dalliance.”

“There is no sin in loving fiercely.” Thranduil abandoned Bard’s cock and gripped the back of Bard’s head with both hands, yanking him forward into another all-consuming kiss.

Bard bit down on Thranduil’s bottom lip and slowly eased away, pulling Thranduil’s lip as he went. It was then that Bard realized how hard his cock was and it seemed Thranduil had the same problem. But unlike Bard, Thranduil didn’t shy away from it. Instead, he wrapped a hand around their cocks, resting his forehead against Bard’s as he looked down to watch what he was doing. He stroked his hand over both of their cocks, letting out a breathy moan. That sound had easily become Bard’s favourite sound that Thranduil made. It was so vulnerable, yet so powerful. It spoke volumes; it said everything Thranduil didn’t dare speak aloud.

With much reluctance, Bard put his hand on Thranduil’s wrist, steadying it and stopping its movement.

“But baby, why?” Thranduil captured Bard’s gaze and gave a little pout.

“I know, babe, I know,” Bard sighed. “I really don’t want you to stop, but what if the kids get up…”

Thranduil’s pout turned into a nod and then a long exhale. “You’re right, babe,” he said as he let go of their cocks and switched off the water. “I just get so lost in you. It’s hard to control myself.”

“Oh, believe me, I know exactly how you feel,” Bard grinned.

“We’ll just have to schedule some alone time soon.”

Bard hummed in agreement. “Soon. So we can love each other fiercely.”

Thranduil wrung out his hair and took Bard’s hand as they stepped out of the shower. “The most handsome man in the world wants to love me fiercely,” Thranduil smirked. “I am truly blessed, baby.”

A stupid grin plastered itself on Bard’s face. He would not let himself think about how he just stopped Thranduil from jerking them both off in the shower. It seemed Bard was too used to cowering away from physical affection instead of accepting and embracing it when it was freely given.

He hoped Thranduil’s openness in regards to sexual matters would help him come out of his shell a little. He wasn’t with Madison anymore; he was with someone who enjoyed being with him, someone who praised him, someone who thought he was attractive and desired him in all the ways Bard had longed to be desired.

He needed to remember what Thranduil had said.

_There is no sin in loving fiercely._

***

Thranduil stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, drying his hair with a towel. Bard was still in the bathroom brushing his teeth. When Bard emerged, he seemed to have a little more bounce in his step. He seemed a little bolder, a little more confident in himself.

Thranduil smiled to himself. This was very good. His boyfriend doubted himself far too much and was blind to his own worth. Thranduil would do whatever it took to make Bard see just how amazing he truly was and just how much he was appreciated.

And instead of feeling rejected when Bard stopped him in the shower, Thranduil somehow managed to understand. Bard wasn’t used to such grand displays of affection. He had to resist and hold back for so many years that it had become second nature. He was used to be reprimanded for wanting such things. But last night… Well, last night there was wine involved, which probably worked to lower Bard’s inhibitions. It all made sense. Bard wanted Thranduil; he just lacked the confidence to seize what he wanted.

“You look good when your hair’s wet,” Thranduil said, flinging the damp towel onto the bed and heading for the closet to find something to wear.

“You think so?” Bard asked, glancing in Thranduil’s direction as he towel-dried his hair.

“I know so, babe. But, hell, you always look good.” He hoped Bard would see the truth behind his words, finally learn to see himself as an attractive, as well as sexual, being. He’d been put down for too long and as a result, his self-worth suffered.

When Thranduil emerged from the closet, Bard had a duffle bag on the bed which he dug through. He pulled on a pair of worn jeans and a Henley. Thranduil’s clothes remained in his arms; all he had on was a pair of black underwear and fuzzy socks.

“Ah, white at night and black during the day,” Bard grinned.

“I’m a devil during the day and an angel at night, apparently.”

“You weren’t too angelic last night.”

“Maybe I was a devil trying to disguise himself as an angel in hopes of getting my sexy lover in bed,” He smirked as he pulled a black long sleeved t-shirt over his head.

“Well it certainly worked,” Bard chuckled. He bent over to pick up the two Polaroid pictures that had ended up on the floor during the night. He sat on the bed, looking at the photos as Thranduil pulled on a pair of soft black leggings.

Thranduil crawled on the bed beside him and snared Bard’s camera. As much as he wanted to see the pictures last night after Bard had taken them, right now, in the light of day, he felt they’d probably only embarrass him. But his curiosity drowned out his self-consciousness, so he turned on the camera and began scrolling through the images on the small screen.

Bard crowded close so he could see the pictures as well. Thranduil grimaced at the pictures of his orgasm face. Was that really how he looked when he came? Clearly it was. He now had proof of that. He wasn’t sure it was an expression anyone would find arousing, but by the sounds Bard made, he seemed to like it.

“God, you really are beautiful, doll,” Bard said softly, leaning in to press a kiss to Thranduil’s cheek.

“It’s weird to see myself like this, from the perspective of someone else,” Thranduil admitted.

“This one is hot. With my finger in your mouth.”

“That one isn’t too bad. But this one,” he stopped on the picture Bard had taken right as Thranduil’s orgasm washed over him. “It’s just…” He made a face.

Bard chuckled. “It’s beautiful. Raw.”

Thranduil kept scrolling until he got to the photos of him in his white lingerie and Bard’s leather jacket. Those ones were better. Less _raw_. Once he’d looked through them all, he let Bard have the camera so he could view them at his own leisure.

A thought came to him when he glanced at the two Polaroid photographs sitting on the bed next to Bard.

The scrapbook.

He flitted off to the closet, found the book and hastily returned to the bed.

“What’ve you got?” Bard asked, looking up from the camera. “A photo album?”

“It’s a scrapbook. For us.”

“For us?”

“Yeah. Hal had the corny idea that I should make a scrapbook of our relationship. But since that’s too pure for me, I wanted to spice it up.”

Bard quirked a brow. “That’s a cool idea, doll. How do you want to spice it up, though?”

“Maybe add in some naughty pictures as well.” He took the two polaroids and put them into the first page of the book side by side. His eyes lingered a moment longer on the photo he’d taken of Bard in the leather jacket. Damn, Bard looked _hot_.

“All the naughty ones are on here, though,” Bard said, motioning to his camera.

“Well, you’ll have to print them.”

“I, uh, don’t have my own computer. I use Sigrid’s laptop. I don’t think it would be wise to put these pictures on there—”

“Say no more, babe. You can put them on my laptop if you want,” Thranduil offered. He didn’t want to think about what Bard’s kids would say if they accidentally stumbled upon their father’s personal photographs.

“That’s a good idea. Then I can delete them from the camera so the kids won’t see them.”

So, Thranduil fetched his laptop and before too long, all the pictures were transferred and then deleted from Bard’s camera.

Not wanting to wake up the children yet, they cuddled on the bed for a few moments more. Apparently, Bard couldn’t resist trying to tickle Thranduil, which resulted in a bit of playful wrestling upon the bed. Every time Thranduil cackled loudly, Bard’s smile grew wider. In an effort to pin Bard down, Thranduil wrapped his limbs around Bard’s body to hold him still.

With a laugh, Bard wriggled in Thranduil’s grasp, trying to pry Thranduil’s legs off him.

“You’re like a blond spider. Such long legs and arms,” he chuckled, poking at Thranduil’s ribs once he managed to get his arms free.

“If I’m a blond spider, then you’re a brown recluse. Those fangs are deadly,” Thranduil chortled as Bard nipped gently at his neck.

“Don’t let my venom slow you down, little spider.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t slow me down. It might just do the opposite.”

Minutes passed as they cuddled and wrestled on the bed, but eventually they pulled apart, out of each other’s arms and went to see if the children were awake yet.

Legolas and Tilda were just waking from their slumber, so after they got dressed, all four of them went down to the kitchen for breakfast. The children begged for pancakes, so together, Thranduil and Bard prepared the sugary breakfast treat.

At last, it was time for Bard and Tilda to head home, which earned grumbles and protests from both children. Thranduil promised Tilda that she could come back for a sleepover any time she wanted. This made the little girl very happy and a little less reluctant to leave, knowing that she was welcome back whenever she wanted.

Once Bard had gathered up his camera bag and leather jacket, he gave Thranduil a quick kiss and they wished each other a Merry Christmas. Then, with Tilda in tow, Bard made his way out to the car. Legolas and Thranduil waved from the door, watching the as the car disappeared in the distance.

Thranduil gently stroked the phoenix necklace Bard had given him, a warm feeling flooding his heart.

Their sleepover had been a success.

***

“I can’t believe Christmas is tomorrow!” Tilda exclaimed, bouncing around the kitchen as Bard emptied the dishwasher. “I’m so excited!”

Bain and Sigrid sat at the kitchen table, eating crackers and cheese. Every now and then, Tilda would spring over to the table, stuff a piece of cheese in her mouth before running back to Bard, gleefully cheering about her excitement for tomorrow. Bain had his sketchbook in front of him, his face contorted into a look of concentration as he periodically rolled his eyes at his little sister.

As the children talked about tomorrow’s plans for Christmas dinner at Nan’s house, Bard put away the dishes and swept the floor. He thought about what he could make for supper tonight. Since it was a special occasion, he wanted to make something all the children liked. Bain had been asking for pizza for a while, and it was something that Tilda and Sigrid enjoyed as well. And it would certainly be easier to order out and not have a mess to clean up afterwards…

The sound of Sigrid’s chair on the floor distracted him from his thoughts and he looked up at her. She held her phone in her hand, a slight frown on her face.

“Da, can I talk to you?” She finally said, gesturing for Bard to follow her into the living room.

Bain and Tilda gave her a look, but didn’t say anything. So, Bard went with Sigrid, wondering what she needed to tell him in private. Usually when something bothered her, she would voice her feelings aloud, no matter who was around. This must be something different, something that might affect the other two children.

“What’s up, Sig? Is something the matter?” Bard asked, his brow creasing in worry.

“Guess who sent me a text?” She whispered, her voice wavering.

“Who?” The word came out of his mouth slowly, as realization hit him. It couldn’t be, could it? Would Madison really text Sigrid after being so clear about not wanting anything to do with the family anymore?

“Ma,” Sigrid finally said.

Bard sighed. “What did she say?” He gripped tighter to the broom handle. Why the hell did Madison suddenly contact Sigrid out of the blue? What was the reason behind it? Did she purposely want to stir up shit and cause trouble? And why now, the day before Christmas? If she meant to make the children feel guilty, Bard wasn’t going to allow it, especially not now, not on Christmas Eve. The children were meant to enjoy this time of year, not feel guilty for having a good time without their estranged mother.

Sigrid blinked slowly, staring at her phone. She swallowed and handed the device to Bard. “See for yourself.”

Bard took the phone with hesitation. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see what Madison had said.

_Hi, Sigrid. Tell Bain and Tilda Merry Christmas from me. I’m sorry I can’t be there to celebrate with you. That’s your father’s fault, but I’m sure you know that already. You know how badly he treated me. You know why I couldn’t stay with him anymore. Anyway, I hope you’re doing well. I still love you, despite not being there with you. Have a safe and happy Christmas._

Bard grimaced and a groan escaped his throat. How despicable could she be, telling Sigrid it was _his_ fault that she left? She didn’t only leave Bard, she left her own children. If she cared about them and wanted to be a part of their lives, she would have found a way to make it work. But she didn’t. She ran. She abandoned them. And then she had the nerve to blame Bard.

“I don’t know what to say, Sig,” Bard finally said, struggling to keep his voice even. His eyes kept going back to the same line, _‘That’s your father’s fault, but I’m sure you know that already. You know how badly he treated me’._ Bard wanted to shout. He had never in his life treated her badly. It was her who would lose her temper, break things and take her anger out on Bard, whether with her words or with her fists. And Bard just took it. How dare she say he treated her badly! He bit back his anger, trying desperately to force it down. He wouldn’t mention the way Madison had treated him to his daughter. He wouldn’t accuse Madison of being abusive. He’d keep that to himself. It wasn’t something Sigrid needed to deal with.

“You don’t have to say anything, Da. I’m not going to text her back.” Sigrid shook her head, exhaling sharply. “I can’t believe she said it’s your fault that she’s not here to have Christmas with us. God, I don’t even want her here,” Sigrid said, quickly realizing she’d begun to raise her voice. She took a deep breath and lowered her tone to a whisper. “She can’t manipulate me, Da. I know you never treated her badly. You were always the reasonable one. I hope you know that I don’t believe her accusations. I only showed you because I didn’t know what to do, if I should say anything to Bain and Tilda…”

“Probably best not to say anything. They seem happy right now. We wouldn’t want to upset them on Christmas. So maybe we should just keep this between us,” Bard said. His grip on the broom handle had gotten tighter, despite how slick with sweat his palms had become. He finally let go of the broom, balancing it against the wall. He didn’t want to snap it accidentally due to his anger. The feeling coiled in his chest, wrapping around his heart and squeezing tight, threatening to suffocate him.

Stupid fucking Madison. He should have been more prepared for this. He should’ve known she’d try to contact one of them.

“Da, are you mad?” Sigrid frowned.

“Not at you, darling. At her, yes.” Bard took a deep breath to help calm himself down.

When Sigrid and Bard rejoined the two other children in the kitchen, Bain was asking Tilda about the sleepover – what they did, if she had fun and what the ‘mansion’ looked like. Tilda’s answers were all very enthusiastic, but none were as animated as when she began talking about her new best friend, Legolas, and his very pretty father.

“He let me sit in his lap,” Tilda nodded, snatching another piece of cheese before Bain got to it. “And Legolas and Da shared a bowl of popcorn.”

“Where’s the mother? Did she walk out like our Ma did?” Bain snorted.

Bard glanced at Bain, opening his mouth and trying to figure out how to explain to Bain that Legolas’s mother had died. But before he could speak, Tilda began.

“Legolas said she died over five years ago. He says Thran is basically his dad and his mom. She died in a bad way, he said.” Tilda’s expression had become as somber as possible for an eight-year-old. She chewed a cracker slowly. Bard wondered when the children had exchanged stories, and what all Tilda had told Legolas about the situation with her own mother.

“A bad way?” Bain frowned. “Like a drug overdose?”

“I hope not,” Sigrid mumbled from the pantry. She said it more to herself than to anyone else, as if her mind was elsewhere. It seemed she was trying to busy herself to keep her thoughts off Madison’s text message by organizing the snack shelf.

“Bain,” Bard warned. Thranduil hadn’t told him much about his wife or how she’d passed away, so Bard regarded Tilda with interest, wondering what she knew that he didn’t.

“Well, that’s a bad way to die!” Bain retorted.

“No, Bain! Not that!” Tilda shook her head. “She died in a car accident. Legs said Thran was in the accident, too – he was the one driving, but he wasn’t hurt badly. His mom died right away, though. They didn’t even take her to the hospital and he never got to see her.”

Bard’s throat tightened in sympathy for both Legolas and Thranduil. How hard must that have been for them - Thranduil losing his wife in such a disastrous way and Legolas having to grow up without his mother, and neither of them having a chance to say a proper goodbye?

It almost felt disrespectful to talk about it, as if they gossiped about someone who they should not be speaking of. Bard had nothing to say on the matter, so he busied himself at the sink again, scrubbing plates that were already clean, as the children commented about how sad it was that Legolas’s mother had died so suddenly.

Though, all Bard could think of was how Thranduil must feel about the tragedy of the situation. Bard sincerely hoped he didn’t blame himself, or feel guilty about her untimely death, but knowing what he knew about Thranduil’s emotional issues, he could guess that it probably still heavily weighed on Thranduil’s mind and burdened him far more than he would ever let on.

Afternoon quickly turned to evening, and Bard ended up ordering an extra large pizza for supper. They sat around the television, watching Christmas specials as they ate. Bard was pleased that the children enjoyed themselves, even Bain, who normally preferred to spend time alone playing video games. Sigrid’s unrest about Madison’s text appeared to have lifted, at least for the time being – another thing Bard was grateful for. Christmas was meant to be about family and togetherness, and he’d be damned if Madison ruined that for any of them.

As the children played Monopoly on the living room floor, Bard ducked out to the garage to make sure all the presents were ready to be put under the tree. He made sure he hadn’t forgotten to put tags on any of the gifts. Then, he filled the children’s stockings with various confections – mostly chocolate, as it was something they didn’t usually indulge in. Of course, Bard had splurged and picked up the best quality chocolate from the store. Even though it would put him further in debt, he felt it was justifiable. Christmas only came once a year, so he didn’t see the point of half-assing it. Especially this year, after all the children had gone through – they deserved the best.

But as Bard tried to convince himself that he’d done the right thing by spending extra money, he couldn’t stop his worries from growing. Life with only one household income was a vast change, something it would take some getting used to. As he headed back into the house, he absently wondered how he was going to make ends meet now that he was raising the children on his own. He could always get another job, or work longer hours, or on the weekends…But then he’d never see the children. He could sell his truck. He could sell his motorcycle. Or his two guitars. Or even his camera.

No. He couldn’t do that.

What if he could make money from his photographs?

He mentally scolded himself for even entertaining such an outlandish idea. How on earth did one even go about selling photographs? And who would buy such strange, abstract images?

“Da?” Bain’s voice startled Bard from his thoughts.

He looked up, humming. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“You’re just standing there!”

“Come play Monopoly with us,” Sigrid said.

“Yeah, c’mon, Da! Play with us,” Tilda insisted. “You can be the car.” She held out the game piece, between her little fingers.

Bard grinned and took the tiny car from Tilda. “I hope you’re all prepared to be owned.”

It was a struggle to get the children upstairs and settled into bed for the night. Bard had put out milk and cookies for Santa right before they all went upstairs. He did this mainly for Tilda’s benefit, since neither Bain nor Sigrid believed in Santa Claus any longer. Tilda had been persistent that they stay downstairs a few minutes longer just in case Santa was running early. By the grace of the gods, he managed to convince her that Santa would only come once he knew for a fact that she was fast asleep.

In order to help Tilda drift off, Bard read her the classic, _The Night Before Christmas_ and before long she had dozed off in Bard’s arms. He tucked her in, turned off her lamp and pressed a kiss to her forehead before heading to his bedroom.

Once he was settled in bed, he looked at his phone, pleased to see Thranduil had texted him.

When he opened his messages, there was a picture waiting for him – a picture that made him laugh out loud.

 

***

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hal bellowed as he entered the house.

“Hey, you,” Thranduil greeted. Hal tossed his coat at Thranduil, who grumbled but hung it up in the closet anyway. “You’re early this year.”

“I was hoping I’d catch you with Bard, but I guess I’m not early enough.”

“Nope, tough shit.”

“Did you guys have a good time last night? Did the leaf have fun with Bard’s daughter? What did you and Bard do after they went to bed? Where is the leaf anyway?”

“Jesus. Simmer down.”

“There is no time to simmer, Thran! I must know.”

“We had a good time, yes. Legs and Tilda are so adorable together.”

“Aw, they really are! Such sweet little munchkins. Did they like the cake pops?”

“Yes. Legs finished off the last two like an hour ago.”

“A pig, just like his father.”

“You think you’re funny.”

“It’s a fact. You consume food like you consume Bard’s cock,” Hal cackled.

“And what makes you think I consumed Bard’s cock?”

“Oh, honey, it’s written all over your face. Are your lips sore? I have chapstick if you need it.”

“You’re a real fucking piece of work, Hal. Seriously.”

“I know, baby. I know. Now, I have to warn you. Mumzie is desperate for gossip, so don’t let her get under your skin when she questions you tomorrow.”

“I’m used to it. I have to put up with you, don’t forget.”

“You’re such a ray of sunshine, Thran,” Hal stuck out his tongue. “Oh, oh! Before I forget, I got you a Christmas Eve present!”

“Not another candy cane coloured dildo,” Thranduil groaned. He didn’t need any more dildos to add to his ridiculously large collection.

“Sorry to disappoint! It’s not a dildo, but you can put it in your mouth! Just let me run out to the car,” Hal said, slipping on Thranduil’s Uggs and disappearing out the front door.

When Hal returned, he squealed in delight, holding tightly to a gift bag. “Here,” he said, handing the bag to Thranduil. “This made me think of you. And the timing couldn’t have been better!”

Thranduil rolled his eyes. It had to be something crude. He pulled tissue paper out of the bag, balling it up in his hand as he took out what was inside. It was a travel mug. Thranduil snorted when he read the message on it. _‘I love to wrap both my hands around it and swallow’_.

“Oh, my god, Hal. This is hilarious,” Thranduil laughed.

“Right?! It’s so you.”

“It’s more you.”

“But _you_ sucked Bard’s cock last night,” Hal stated matter-of-factly. As Thranduil held up a finger to protest, Hal quickly cut him off. “Ah – shh, shh, shh! Don’t even deny it! I bet your jaw is sore from the sheer size of it!”

“God, Hal!”

“Now, if Mumzie brings you condoms, just accept them, okay? I know you won’t need them, but take them anyway. Or she’ll be offended.”

“Yes, Hal. I’ll take them.”

“She’ll probably bring the peppermint flavoured ones for Christmas. And maybe the chocolate ones, too. Hopefully not the turkey ones.”

“Are you going to help me with the damned turkey tomorrow?”

“I told you months ago, Thran! Mumzie and I are doing our stint at the soup kitchen for lunch. We’ll only be done around three-thirty. So, tough shit, as you say. You’ll have to get the turkey done on your own. Oh, that reminds me! Is Bard coming over?”

“No, he’s not. He’s doing a thing with his parents.”

“Oh, probably for the best. Mumzie would’ve never let him hear the end of it.” Hal rolled his eyes before trying to imitate his mother’s voice. “You better be treating my sweet, little Thranduil like a king! Don’t work him too hard, you understand? He thinks he can take it, but what he really needs is a big, strong man to make love to him under the stars!” Hal snorted out a laugh and returned to his own voice. “You know that’s what she’d say.”

“The two of you would effectively send him packing. Are you going to bring any food tomorrow? Or is it all up to me?”

“Are you asking me to steal from the soup kitchen?!” Hal slapped a hand to his heart and put on a mock-scandalized look.

“Is Mumzie going to make dessert?” Thranduil asked, ignoring Hal’s comment.

“Yeah, of course. She’s making risalamande and that trifle she always does.”

“Oh, good. Ask her if she can make extra. I can eat at least two servings of both.”

“Like I said. Pig.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Thranduil said dismissively.

Over the next few hours, he set Hal to work in the kitchen, baking all sorts of treats. After the batch of brownies were out of the oven and cooling down, Thranduil sent Hal out to pick up the Thai food that they would be having for supper.

While Hal was out, Thranduil changed into the outfit he wore every Christmas Eve. He liked to say he did it for Legolas, but the truth was he enjoyed wearing the onesie. It was comfortable and the look on Legolas’s face made it all worth it.

Finally, Thranduil emerged from his bedroom, decked out in his reindeer onesie. He knocked on his son’s door and when Legolas let him in, he was wearing a matching onesie.

“Oh, look at my little reindeer!” Thranduil bellowed.

Legolas laughed, pulling at the little tail at the back of Thranduil’s onesie. “I think we look good!”

“We do,” Thranduil agreed. “I wonder if we’ll be able to get Hal to wear the elf ears and hat.”

“Uncle Hal always puts up a fuss!”

“I’m sure if you beg him he’ll give in and wear the ears. Maybe not the hat – you know how he is about his hair.”

“He’s worse than you when it comes to his hair. Always worried he’s gonna mess it up!” Legolas chuckled.

The two of them made their way to the kitchen to continue baking in hopes of finishing the gingerbread cookies by the time Hal returned.

Thranduil dug around in the pantry for toppings as the cookies baked in the oven. He heard the door open, but continued his search, allowing Legolas to go greet Hal.

“We’re baking the gingerbread cookies now,” Legolas informed. Hal sniffed the air, placing both hands over his heart. Thranduil stayed in the pantry, watching Hal’s gesticulation with a grin.

“It smells absolutely delectable!” Hal exclaimed, crouching to look in the oven, not noticing Thranduil in the pantry. “Where’s Thran?”

Thranduil stepped out of the pantry, setting toppings on the counter. “Right behind you,” he said, giving Hal a play-kick to the back of the head.

Hal looked up before standing to his full height. A laugh erupted from deep in his belly.

“Oh, Lord Jesus and all that is holy!” Hal’s eyes remained glued to Thranduil’s outfit. “You’re actually wearing that damned onesie! I mean, on Legolas it looks cute, but on you, Thran, it just looks creepy!”

“I don’t look cute!” Legolas protested, sorting through the toppings Thranduil had set out.

“I look cute, though,” Thranduil laughed, poking Hal in the ribs.

“Good god! It’s like a circus up in here!”

“All we’re missing is our elf! Go fetch the ears and hat, leaf!”

Legolas quickly disappeared around the corner, running as fast as his legs would take him.

“No, no, no! I am not an elf!” Hal groaned.

“Yes, you are!” Thranduil said in a sing-song voice.

“You’d make a better elf than I would, Thran.”

“Oh, well, in that case, we can switch. You wear the onesie and I’ll wear the ears.”

“Okay, fine, you win! I’d rather be an elf than a big fuzzy reindeer,” Hal scoffed. “I mean, seriously, Thran! Footed pajamas are just ridiculous! And what’s with the flap on the ass? Easy access for fucking?”

“Hey, hey, hey! Keep it down or Legs will hear your foul mouth.”

Hal stuck his tongue out before grabbing brown paper bags that he’d left on the counter. He held both bags up. “You do realize I got the food, right?”

“You’re a peach, Hal.”

“And if my baking senses are correct, the cookies will be done in about ten seconds.”

Just as Thranduil removed the cookies from the oven, Legolas flew into the room, sliding on the floor and almost knocking into Hal.

“I got them!” Legolas said, out of breath.

By some miracle, Hal ended up wearing the elf ears and hat without putting up too much of a fuss. Of course, he complained about it for a good half an hour before giving up and accepting his fate. They ate their dinner around the coffee table in the sitting room. Legolas’s attention kept straying to the presents beneath the tree. Thranduil hadn’t put them all out yet; he would do that later tonight once his son was asleep.

After they’d finished their Thai, Thranduil cleaned up, throwing away the empty boxes in the recycling and putting dirty utensils in the dishwasher. He laughed at himself, at the way he probably looked, tidying up while decked out in his reindeer onesie. He wished Bard could be here to see it. He made a mental note to send Bard a picture once Hal went home and Legolas was in bed.

As per tradition, the three of them played holiday charades around the fireplace and drank copious amounts of hot chocolate. Thranduil spiked his with Baileys but decided mere Baileys wasn’t enough, so he poured himself a glass of wine, offering one to Hal as well.

“Girl, you know I have to drive home,” Hal said. “But I will have a little of that Baileys, though.”

At this point, Thranduil was feeling the effects of the alcohol. He was slightly buzzed, so he laughed and poured Baileys in Hal’s cup of hot chocolate with a shaky hand. He laughed again.

“What’s so funny?” Hal asked, quirking a brow.

“The way you call me ‘girl’.”

“Everyone is ‘girl’ to me,” Hal chuckled, sipping his drink with a grin.

“Even me,” Legolas said, digging at presents and trying to discern what was inside each package. He was lying flat on his stomach, looking like he was so tired he might pass out at any second.

It was already past ten, so Thranduil decided it would probably be best to get Legolas to bed so he’d have enough energy to get through tomorrow’s dinner with Hal and his mom. It took a lot of energy to keep up with those two.

Legolas poured a glass of milk as Thranduil arranged various kinds of cookies on a decorative plate. They put the milk and cookies on the side table closest to the Christmas tree in the sitting room. Then, upon Legolas’s request they put some carrots outside for Santa’s reindeer.

Finally, by the time the clock struck eleven, Legolas was tucked into bed. Hal was there to say goodnight to him, too. And when Thranduil and Hal descended the staircase, Thranduil laughed. God, he was such a giggly drunk, and he was barely even drunk.

“You’re laughing at me again, you bitch,” Hal snickered. “What is it this time?”

“Just us, tucking Legolas in like we’re two married queens, raising our son in the suburbs,” Thranduil chuckled, tossing himself down on the sofa once they got back into the sitting room.

“Oh, har, har,” Hal waved a hand. “Except now you have a hunky mechanic boyfriend.” He sat beside Thranduil, putting his feet up on the coffee table, yawning as he removed the elf ears and hat.

Thranduil leaned against the arm of the sofa and stretched his legs out over Hal’s lap.

“Oh!” Thranduil exclaimed, remembering that he hadn’t yet shown Hal the necklace Bard had given him. “I didn’t show you what he got me yet, did I?”

“What, who – what? Bard? He got you something? Ooo, girl! Let me see,” Hal clutched onto Thranduil’s ankles, shaking them violently.

With a rumble of laughter, Thranduil drew his legs to his chest. “He got me this…” Thranduil began to unzip the onesie so he could pull out the necklace and show Hal, but Hal shrieked and held up his hands.

“Don’t get naked! What did he give you, a love bite? If it’s below the waist, I don’t need to see!”

“Oh, shush! He got me this necklace,” Thranduil said, holding out the phoenix pendant, a proud grin on his face.

Hal made a high-pitched noise of delight, scooting closer so he could get a better look. “Ooooh, it’s a phoenix! That’s so sweet and very symbolic.”

“He has a phoenix tattoo so it sort of represents him. And it hangs right over my heart. He said he wanted to stay close to my heart, which made me melt. No one has ever been so kind to me in my life,” Thranduil said. He was so excited, that he continued rambling on, “and the chain is made up of little infinity symbols because he wants us to be together forever, or something like that. And of course, the symbolism of the phoenix rising from the ashes – we’ve both been through shit, but life will get better.”

“Look at you, being all positive – my glittery little heart can barely handle it! You are _so_ in love!”

“Hal,” Thranduil zipped his onesie back up, successfully hiding the necklace. “Don’t make me blush.”

“Too late for that, you’re already as red as a boiled lobster,” Hal said, chuckling. “Unfortunately, it is time for me to haul my big, old ass back home. Mumzie is coming over early in the morning so I need my beauty sleep. Gotta be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for her arrival!”

When Hal left, Thranduil devoured the cookies they’d left out for Santa, washing them down with the glass of milk. He left the glass and plate where they were before adding the rest of the presents beneath the tree. He set out Legolas’s stocking and then took his phone and headed up to bed.

Before taking off his onesie, he splayed himself out on the bed, and snapped a picture of himself with the antler-clad hood upon his head. Without a second thought, he sent the picture to Bard followed by a string of messages.

[To: Bard] 11:22pm – lmao look at what I’m wearing!

[To: Bard] 11:22pm – it’s so hot, I need to take it off now

[To: Bard] 11:23pm – I hope you’re having a good night, baby. I miss you already

He struggled with the zipper of the onesie, hauling the damned thing off by the hood and tossing it on the floor. How good did it feel to rid himself of the fuzzy material of the onesie? He could finally breathe again! Thranduil trotted off to the bathroom to get himself ready for bed and when he returned, he flung his underwear at the hamper and slid beneath the bed sheets with a shiver. His phone buzzed, causing Thranduil’s heart to race.

It was Bard. His beautiful, sexy, mouth-watering lover, who could consume him with just one touch, one glance.

The thought of his handsome boyfriend helped warm him up, and now the sheets were no longer cold – they were hot, much too hot. So, he pushed them down before looking at his messages.

[From: Bard] 11:35pm – LOL! What are you wearing?

[To: Bard] 11:44pm – nothing right now ;) but before I was in my reindeer onesie lol

[From: Bard] 11:45pm – Damn and I missed it. You looked adorable, doll and I bet you look sexy as hell right now. naked in bed?

[To: Bard] 11:45pm – of course. Thinking of you

[From: Bard] 11:46pm – oh yeah? What’re you thinking about me?

[To: Bard] 11:46pm – how much I want you here with me, next to me, naked with me…

[From: Bard] 11:47pm – mmmm yeah, I want that too

[To: Bard] 11:47pm – soon, I hope. I wanna see you. Send me a picture?

[From: Bard] 11:47pm – what kind of picture? lol

[To: Bard] 11:48pm – nothing raunchy, just your handsome face. Please, baby

Thranduil’s eyes were closing, but he forced them to stay open. A few minutes passed without reply from Bard, and Thranduil worried that maybe he pushed too far in asking Bard to send him a picture. But just then, his phone buzzed and his heart jolted when he saw the picture Bard sent him. It was a shot of Bard’s face from the shoulders up, his hair tousled, little strands in his eyes – just the way Thranduil liked it. Such a fucking beautiful man. Thranduil stared at the picture, studying Bard’s features, the way the dim, yellow light illuminated his face, creating shadows and deepening Bard’s gaze into something feral, hungry.

[From: Bard] 11:53pm – that okay?

[To: Bard] 11:53pm – more than okay, baby. You are SO hot. Thanks for giving me something beautiful to look at before falling asleep

[From: Bard] 11:54pm – you’re welcome, pretty doll. speaking of sleep, I better do just that. tomorrows the big day

[To: Bard] 11:54pm – yes, I better sleep, too. Legolas will likely wake me up before 6, so I need all the rest I can get! Sweet dreams, baby. Love you xxxxx enjoy Christmas tomorrow <3

[From: 11:55pm – ouch, before 6 – that’s too early! Enjoy your Christmas too, babe. I love you <3 xo

[To: Bard] 11:55pm – night, ttyl <3

[From: Bard] 11:56pm – night, love <3

Upon telling Bard that Legolas would wake him up before six in the morning, it occurred to Thranduil that he probably shouldn’t sleep naked. He remedied that issue, then plugged his phone in and forced himself to sleep, the image of Bard’s face dancing behind his eyelids as he dozed off.

 

***

Every year, it was like clockwork – Legolas would wake Thranduil up at five-thirty in the morning, begging his father to get out of bed so they could go downstairs and open presents.

This year was no different. The sounds of light rapping on his door drew Thranduil from his peaceful slumber. A quick glance at the clock told him it was not yet five-thirty. Legolas was early this year.

Last year, Thranduil had been with Galion, so Legolas had to wait a few hours longer than usual and was not allowed into Thranduil’s room, as ordered by Galion. That was the only Christmas Thranduil had witnessed his son hiding under his covers, crying softly. Even when Thranduil had gone to get him and tell him it was time to open presents, Legolas was hesitant and refused to go downstairs, so Thranduil had to bring his presents up to his bedroom. Galion had ruined that Christmas, managing to drain all the joy out of it. It was the first time Thranduil had experienced just how violent Galion could become when provoked.

The relief he felt now was palpable. It felt so good to not have to worry anymore, to know that his son was safe and was able to let loose and have fun without being chastised or threatened.

Legolas rubbed his eyes and sprinted towards Thranduil’s bed, crawling over to stroke his father’s hair. Thranduil stretched, grabbing Legolas and pulling him into a hug.

“Merry Christmas, my sweetest leaf,” he said, yawning in Legolas’s hair and causing the boy to giggle and squirm.

“Merry Christmas, Ada!” Legolas replied. He weaseled his way out of Thranduil’s arms and bounced impatiently on his knees. “Can we go open presents now? Please!”

Despite Thranduil’s fatigue, he pushed himself upright. “I can’t say no to you, leaf.” And it was true, Thranduil really couldn’t find it in himself to suggest even a few more minutes in bed – not after the disappointing Christmas they’d had last year. Thranduil was determined to make up for it.

“Really?”

Thranduil yawned again, covering his mouth with his arm. “Yes, really. C’mon, let’s go see if Santa ate his cookies and drank his milk.”

“Oh, yeah! I hope he liked the gingerbread and I hope the reindeer liked the carrots we left outside for them!”

“We’ll have to go check if the carrots are gone,” Thranduil said, sliding out of bed as he adjusted the uncomfortable pajama pants he wore that had somehow completely twisted, the crotch area now positioned near his hip.

Legolas laughed. “Ada wearing pajamas. There’s something you don’t see every day.”

“What do you mean? Pajamas are for sleeping, silly leaf.”

“Uncle Hal said you sleep naked.” Legolas made a face. “Thank god you decided to wear pants today!”

“Another Christmas miracle, isn’t it?” Thranduil chuckled, pulling a long sleeved shirt over his head quickly so that Legolas wouldn’t witness the wound on his wrist.

“Let’s go downstairs to open presents, Ada! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”

Thranduil smiled at his son’s endless enthusiasm. The way Legolas had become more of himself over the past month was enough to make Thranduil’s heart burst with happiness. It had been so rare to see such exuberance from his child that he wasted no time following Legolas down the stairs and into the sitting room.

The little boy’s eyes lit up, brighter than sunshine. He gaped at the presents beneath the tree, clapping his hands and staring up at his father with a wide smile. That expression, the joy in Legolas’s eyes, the way he let loose and ran towards the tree, it made Thranduil’s heart melt.

Legolas sunk down to his knees, grabbing one of the presents and examining the tag. He shook it lightly, glancing over his shoulder at Thranduil with an eager look on his face.

“Ada! Look at all these presents! Can I open them?” Legolas’s grin was infectious and Thranduil couldn’t help but chuckle. His whole body felt tingly and warm, heat surging through his core, radiating out from his heart and filling his limbs. It was an otherworldly feeling, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Thranduil wanted to savour the feeling as long as he could. “You don’t want breakfast first?”

“It’s too early for breakfast, Ada. I’m not even hungry!” Legolas protested, shaking his head before turning back to the presents.

“Look!” Thranduil announced, remembering the empty glass and plate sitting upon the side table. “Santa drank all the milk and ate all the cookies.”

“Oh!” Legolas’s attention was torn away from the presents beneath the tree for a moment. He gazed at the empty glass and bare plate in wonderment. “He must have liked our gingerbread cookies!”

Thranduil nodded animatedly. “Yes, he most certainly did. He didn’t even leave any crumbs.”

Legolas’s eyes wandered to his stocking, hanging from the mantle. “My stocking, Ada. I almost forgot.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go for it. Open it up.”

As Legolas began to work on his stocking, Thranduil plugged his phone into the sound system, the sounds of Christmas music filling the room. It didn’t take long for Legolas to finish opening the gifts in his stocking and he was quickly under the tree digging around for presents and putting them into a large pile, organizing them based on size and which ones he wanted to open first, and which he planned to save for last. Legolas passed a few presents to Thranduil before he started shredding wrapping paper and tossing it around him. Thranduil fetched a large garbage bag for the torn paper. He planned on taking pictures and didn’t want the mess to ruin his photographs.

Instead of opening the gifts Legolas had given him, Thranduil watched his son with a fond grin and snapped pictures at random. He got some very lively photos of Legolas tearing into his gifts, shots of Legolas with a huge grin plastered on his face and a few of them together sitting beside the tree as Legolas held up his gifts for the camera.

Once all of Legolas’s presents were opened, he threw his arms around Thranduil’s neck, pulling him into a big hug.

“Oh, thank you, Ada! You are too good to me!” Legolas shrieked into Thranduil’s ear.

“You’re very welcome, my sweetest leaf.” Thranduil replied, pressing a kiss in his son’s hair.

Thranduil knew he spoiled Legolas. Never would he want his son to grow up to be materialistic or entitled, but it seemed Thranduil could not resist. The bright smile on Legolas’s face, the way his eyes danced when he looked at his presents – it was all that mattered to Thranduil. He only wanted to make Legolas happy. At least Legolas was grateful for all that he got. He never demanded things, never threw a tantrum when he did not get what he wanted.

“Open yours now, Ada! They are from me,” Legolas said, sliding out of Thranduil’s lap and back onto the floor. “This one first.” He handed Thranduil a box, a sly grin tugging at his lips. It appeared as though he tried to smother a giggle.

Thranduil grinned back. “What’s so funny?”

“This one is something I hate!” Legolas said cryptically.

“Oh, something you hate?” Thranduil’s eyebrows went up as he shook the box. “Well, I wonder what it could be.” He popped off the bow and tore into the paper, chuckling when he took sight of the box.

It read UGG.

Legolas put a hand over his mouth to stop the bubbling laughter from erupting as Thranduil opened the box.

“Oh, leaf. You didn’t lie. You hate Uggs!” Thranduil pulled the boots out of the box. They were the classic chestnut coloured ones, the same as the pair Thranduil already had.

“Yeah, but you love them, so I figured you needed a new pair. The other ones are gross and falling apart! Now you can throw them out and wear these so you don’t look like a bum.” Legolas giggled, prompting Thranduil to tug the boots onto his feet.

“They feel much better!” Thranduil exclaimed.

“They look much better, too.”

“Thank you, leaf. I’ll be sure to wear them the next time I get you from the bus stop,” Thranduil teased, ruffling Legolas’s hair.

“As long as you don’t wear that old holey sweater along with them!”

“I promise.”

Next, Legolas handed Thranduil another present, roughly the same size at the first. Legolas’s grin was wider this time. Thranduil made quick work opening the box, and when he moved the tissue paper out of the way, his breath caught in the back of his throat. He was flooded with so many emotions; his heart beat faster, so fast that he could hear it thrumming in his ears.

Inside the box were two small painted canvases. Legolas made paintings for him! Just the idea of his son, sitting down and creating something especially for him, really tugged at Thranduil’s heart strings. It was such a sweet gesture, so special, so personal. All of a sudden he felt overwhelmed. He swallowed hard, taking the paintings out of the box to get a better look at them.

“Leaf,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “This is just… It’s the sweetest thing…” He trailed off, not knowing how to express his gratitude to his son.

Legolas didn’t speak. He sat beside Thranduil, a tiny smile on his face, watching his father’s reaction.

The first painting was an abstract, which Thranduil immediately wanted to frame and put in his studio for inspiration. The fact that his son loved him enough to paint something in Thranduil’s signature style was so heartwarming that it robbed him of his words, leaving him utterly speechless. The other painting was just as endearing. It was a forest scene and deep within the trees stood two deer. A large one and a smaller one. The exact scene for the mural Thranduil planned to paint in Legolas’s room in the new house.

“These are wonderful, Legs!”

“Do you like them?” Legolas asked as he looked up at Thranduil for approval.

“Like them? Oh, leaf, I love them! I’m going to have them framed so I can hang them in our new house.” Thranduil said, setting the canvases back in the box and pulling Legolas in for another hug. “Thank you, little leaf. This means so much to me.”

“You’re welcome, Ada.

***

Christmas morning came quickly. Bard awoke to Tilda nestled in his bed next to him. It was only six o’clock, and by some miracle, his youngest daughter was still fast asleep. No sounds of stirring came from the rest of the house, which meant both Sigrid and Bain must still be asleep also. So Bard let himself relax and pulled Tilda close to his chest without jostling her awake.

When he awoke the second time it was because Tilda sat upon his chest, squeezing his face.

“Da! It’s Christmas! Wake up,” Tilda said, trying to whisper despite her evident excitement. “Daaaaaa!”

Bard groaned, and rubbed his eyes with a grin.

“Merry Christmas, my sweet honeybee,” he said, wrapping his arms around Tilda, successfully trapping her in a bear hug.

She squirmed and giggled. “Merry Christmas, Da! C’mon, get up! Sig and Bain are getting ready! Let’s go!”

Bard chuckled, but slid out of bed and tugged on a t-shirt and put on a pair of socks. Tilda yanked at his arm, so he followed her out of his room, where Bain stood pacing around Sigrid’s closed door.

“Merry Christmas, Bain!” Bard greeted, pulling his son into a hug.

“Merry Christmas, Da!” Bain replied, yawning when Bard eased out of the hug.

“Sig is up?”

“Yeah, she’s taking forever, though. C’mon, Sig! Hurry up. What’re you doing in there?” Bain hollered, banging on his sister’s bedroom door.

“Let her get ready, kiddo. Presents aren’t going anywhere,” Bard said.

“And neither are we at this rate!”

“Sig, c’mon!” Tilda piped in.

“Yeah, yeah! Gimme a sec!” Sigrid replied. “I need to look presentable,” she said, finally opening her door a moment later. She made her way out, her hair tied back into a half ponytail. She was wearing natural makeup – black eyeliner, a hint of mascara and a rosy-nude shade of lipstick.

“Presentable for who?” Bain snorted.

“You look lovely, honey. Merry Christmas,” Bard said, smiling. He was most definitely going to be taking pictures, especially now that his passion for photography had been reignited.

“Thanks, Da! Merry Christmas,” she smiled back, giving Bard a quick hug before she turned to her brother. “Presentable for the camera. You know Da is going to be taking pictures the entire time. I don’t want to look like I just rolled out of bed.”

Of course Sigrid was right.

As the children opened their stockings and then their presents beneath the tree, Bard clicked away on his camera. Capturing the joy on the children’s faces helped ease his financial worries and brought him back to the present moment. They were happy, they were enjoying themselves and that was the only thing Bard cared about right now. Sure, he may have gone over his budget, but it was the first Christmas without Madison and he wanted to make it a good one for the sake of his children.

He was grateful that his kids were appreciative of their presents, despite not having as many as they did in the years past. They were smart children and he hoped they understood that things would be different now that Bard was the sole provider for the family.

Bain boasted cheerfully about his video games and new clothes, unable to stop himself from turning on the gaming console and popping in a disc. Sigrid was beside herself when she unwrapped her Doc Martens. An endless stream of thank-yous flowed from her lips as she removed the boots from the box and slipped them on her feet. With Bard’s help, Tilda had all of her toys out of the boxes. She examined the contents of the bracelet making kit as Bard headed to the kitchen. He barely took two steps before Bain yelled for him to stop and come back.

“If you’re gonna make coffee, then you’re gonna need this,” Bain said, presenting Bard with a wrapped gift.

“We saw this and thought it would be perfect for you,” Sigrid said. “We didn’t have much money to spend, but I hope you like it.”

“You kids didn’t have to get anything for me,” Bard replied, touched by his children’s thoughtful gesture.

“It’s so you, Da,” Tilda added, watching as Bard began to unwrap the box.

Inside the box was a mug, and when Bard pulled it out to look at it, a lump as thick as honey formed in the back of his throat.

The mug read: _mechanic by day, world’s best dad by night_

Those simple words touched Bard’s heart. To know that the children thought he was a good dad meant more to him than he could ever express to them with mere words. The past month had been difficult but those simple words – world’s best dad – made it all worth it.

“Thank you, Bain, Sig, Til. This is the best gift, so thoughtful.” He pulled the children in for a group hug, holding on for a few long seconds.

“Do you like it?” Tilda asked.

“Of course, honeybee. I love it. I’m going to use it right now for my coffee.”

“And Da…” Bain chimed in. “I, uh, I have something for you. But go make your coffee first and I’ll go grab it from the basement. It’s not wrapped or anything.” Bain’s body language had become somewhat shy as he spoke, which made Bard wonder what exactly he wanted to give to him.

As Bain slunk off, Bard went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He smiled when he poured the steaming hot liquid into his new mug. World’s best dad – imagine that! He clung to the thought, savouring it the way he savoured the first sip of his coffee.

When he got back into the living room, Bain stood in the doorway holding a canvas in his hands, a timid yet excited smile on his face. The front of the canvas was facing Bain, so Bard couldn’t see what was on it, but he knew whatever it was that his son had painted for him would be a masterpiece.

“I painted this for you,” Bain held out the canvas to Bard.

Bard took it, and flipped it around.

His breath caught.

He realized then that Bain was an extremely talented artist. This was the first painting that his son had shown him and Bard was floored by the quality. Bain had painted a scene from a picture Bard had taken long ago when Tilda was only a few years old. It was the three children standing in front of the lake at sunset, the sky saturated with color, warm and inviting. The silhouettes of the children were the perfect contrast against the colorful sky – the three of them holding hands, looking out at the lake. 

 “Bain, this is exquisite! I am amazed. It is beautiful!” Bard stuttered, trying to find his voice.

“You think so?”

“I know so. You have a gift. You are a brilliant painter!” Bard praised. “Thank you so much. We are going to have to hang this somewhere. It deserves to be on display.”

Bain’s face reddened, but his smile grew wide, taking up his entire face. “I told you those good quality paints helped improve my skill,” he chuckled bashfully.

“Your skill is outstanding, kiddo,” Bard told him truthfully. He was so impressed, so proud of his son and not only because of his talent, but also because he had the courage to show and gift one of his paintings to Bard.

“Thanks,” Bain said, exhaling a sigh of relief.

“See, I told you Da would like it,” Sigrid said, still sitting on the sofa examining her boots.

After Bard had salvaged most of the wrapping paper and set it aside, he started on breakfast. Keeping with tradition, he made bacon and eggs. Sigrid helped him, buttering toast and setting it on plates as Tilda and Bain set the table with placemats, napkins and utensils.

Soon, they were crowded around the kitchen table in silence, wolfing down their meal. Since they had plans to go over to Nan’s and Bampi’s house in the afternoon, they would likely not have another meal until tonight’s feast, so they ate until they were stuffed.

By early afternoon, they had all showered and gotten dressed, adequately preparing themselves for when they would leave in a little over an hour. Bard was the first one ready, followed by Bain and then Tilda. Sigrid took the longest, fixing her hair and putting on her makeup. She wore her Doc Martens proudly around the house.

Feeling inspired, Bard initiated a photoshoot at the foot of the stairs. Sigrid gave him some broody poses, sitting on the stairs, elbows on her knees. Tilda quickly joined the photoshoot and Bard was pleased to get some great shots of his two daughters together. He even managed to get Bain to pose with his painting for a few shots.

Before long, they were out the door and heading over to Bard’s parents’ house for supper. They always arrived early so the children could open presents with their grandparents. Another reason Bard liked to be there early was so he could make himself useful and help out around the house. There was usually something his Da needed help with, something that had to be fixed so Bard always made sure he had the time to do that.

They were welcomed by the pleasant aroma of Christmas supper – a smell that always brought Bard back to his childhood. Nan and Bampi greeted them at the door with hugs and kisses and presents for the children and for Bard as well.

The children opened their gifts, another wave of excitement washing over them. Bard watched them with equal amounts of joy, snapping more pictures, and making sure to take some shots of his parents with the children as well. After the kids had opened their gifts, it was Bard’s turn.

Bard pulled tissue paper out of the gift bag to reveal an electronic shutter release for his Nikon and a new, snazzy camera strap.

“This is perfect! Thank you,” Bard said, feeling the soft, velvety texture of the camera strap.

“You’re welcome, dear,” his ma replied, smiling.

“The kids said you were getting back into photography again, so we figured you could use some stuff,” his da said, grabbing a large wrapped box and handing it to Bard. “Maybe you’ll like this, too.”

“You got me something else?” Bard gaped at the gift. “You know you didn’t have to.”

“Yes, we did,” his ma said, shaking her head. “I think it will be perfect for you.”

Bard sat on the sofa – or chesterfield, as his parents called it – and began to unwrap the box. He gasped aloud when he saw what it was – a lomo camera kit! The retro feel of the photos appealed to Bard, the soft focus, the high contrast, the vignettes…

How did his parents know about his interest in lomography? He’d never mentioned it to anyone before.

He stuttered, trying to find words, but they’d vanished on the tip of his tongue. He stared at the box and began to open it after Tilda prompted him.

“Is – is this what I think it is?” Bard questioned, pulling the contents out of the box.

“It is, indeed,” his da confirmed, patting Bard’s shoulder.

“Good grief, this must’ve cost a fortune!” Bard exclaimed. The kit included a camera, several lenses, filters, and other gizmos that he didn’t recognize. God, he was going to have fun with this! “Wow, thank you so much! This is insane. How’d you know I wanted to try this type of photography?”

“It seemed like a neat idea, so we thought it would be fun for you to experiment a bit, get back in touch with your passion,” his ma smiled, bending down to wrap her arms around Bard’s shoulders.

“I am speechless. Thank you,” he said again. His words of thanks didn’t seem to do justice to how gratified he truly was. He’d have to put the camera to good use to show his parents just how appreciative he was. He’d take some special shots just for them.

Once the excitement had died down, they sat around the table for Christmas supper, letting themselves indulge in the delicious tastes – something they only got to have once or twice a year. The children talked of school and their new gifts, and Nan and Bampi told stories of projects they were currently working on around the house. Conversation lapsed as they neared the end of the meal. Bard had eaten way too much and he knew he’d be tired and lazy before long. Turkey always did that to him.

So before he became too fatigued, he went out into the garage with his da to take a look at the shelving unit his da had been building over the past month. He asked Bard for his input and suggestions, which resulted in a lengthy conversation in regards to finishes and detailing.

It was dark outside by the time they went back in the house and the children lounged around on the sofa with Nan, watching television in the dimly lit room. Clearly, Bard wasn’t the only one who had eaten more than his fill. Everyone looked like they were about to fall asleep.

He spent the next hour or so in the basement analyzing what was wrong with his parents’ furnace. He dissected the issue and set to work repairing it. He was happy he could step in and fix the furnace so his parents didn’t have to spend money to hire a technician to do the job. The consultation alone cost more than Bard could comprehend, so he was more than willing to repair things himself.

As soon as they got home, the kids headed straight up to bed. Never before had it been so easy to get them to go to sleep. If only Bard had known sooner that turkey was the secret weapon! Alone in the living room, Bard read the instruction manual for his new lomo camera. He was dying to try it out; he could barely contain his enthusiasm and anticipation. Thank the gods tomorrow was the weekend and he didn’t have to work. Maybe he would get a chance to go out to the park near the lake to take some test shots. And maybe…

Maybe Thranduil and Legolas would want to join in…

The thought of Thranduil made Bard’s heart skip a few beats. He had to call Thranduil! He said he would. He fumbled with his phone, clicking on Thranduil’s name in his recent calls list.

***

Thranduil bustled around the kitchen, the sound of Christmas music playing loudly from the television as he tried to organize himself. The first thing he had to do was get the turkey ready. Cooking for Christmas always stressed him out but he tried to stay calm, humming along with the music as if he could will himself into the festive spirit.

He cleaned out the turkey and began to tie it. Every year he did this he was always reminded of the way Hal’s mom used to dance with the raw turkey and make kinky jokes about turkey bondage. This was the part Thranduil was skilled at, so he got through it quickly. Before long, the turkey was in the oven. He made cranberry sauce and kept it in the fridge to be reheated before they ate later on in the evening. Then, he began preparing side dishes. Legolas liked mashed potatoes, so Thranduil set the potatoes aside to make later.

“Ada,” Legolas howled, bounding into the kitchen with a lego figure in his hands. “What time are they coming?”

Thranduil looked up from the dishwasher where he loaded dirty dishes. “Um, around five, I think. We’re gonna eat at six.”

“I’m starving. I don’t know if I can wait that long!”

“You want some apple slices?”

“With peanut butter! Yes!”

So, Thranduil took out an apple, washed it and cut it up for his son. Legolas hurriedly took the apple slices, a spoon and the jar of peanut butter into the living room so he could continue playing while he ate.

Thranduil busied himself with food preparation for the next few hours. He was meticulous about how the table was set, but when Legolas offered to help, he was grateful and didn’t nitpick if the napkins weren’t folded properly. While Legolas finished putting the Christmas plates on the table, Thranduil’s phone buzzed.

He abandoned the centerpiece he had been working on and quickly snared his phone. His face lit up when he saw the text message from Bard. If Thranduil hadn’t been so busy all day he would have sent a message to Bard sooner.

[From: Bard] 4:21pm – Merry Christmas, doll! Hope you’re having a wonderful day. I love you <3

Thranduil put a hand to his chest, holding the phoenix gently. He ignored Legolas’s snort as he typed out a reply.

[To: Bard] 4:22pm – Hey, baby :) Merry Christmas! Hope you’re having a wonderful day, too. Love you so much. Will you be available to talk later on tonight?

[From: Bard] 4:23pm – yeah, we should be back home around 10 or 11. I can call you when I’m home if you want

[To: Bard] 4:23pm – ok sounds good, talk soon lover xxx

[From: Bard] 4:24pm – look forward to it, pretty doll xo

When Thranduil put the phone down, Legolas burst out laughing.

“What?” Thranduil said, a mock-offended look on his face.

“You’re so cheesy when you talk to Bard. You get so red and you hold onto that necklace like you might die if you let it go!”

“Oh, Legs. You sound like Uncle Hal. Why don’t you go upstairs and get ready now? You know they’ll probably be early.”

“Okay, okay! Do you mind if I add more colour to my hair?”

“Go for it, leaf. Just leave some of your pretty blond, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Ada. Only a few streaks.”

“Okay, go, go. You want to smell fresh for Mumzie!”

While Legolas was showering and getting ready, Thranduil slipped outside for a cigarette to help calm his nerves. Making food always seemed to raise his blood pressure. And smoking didn’t really help, but it made him feel sane, if only for a moment.

Back in the house, he finished off his centerpiece and completed the side dishes. Now all that was left was the turkey – that damned, fucking turkey! It should be ready in half an hour, according to the timer he’d set. He basted it a few more times, chucking as he recalled how Hal always called the baster the ‘turkey douche’.

The doorbell rang.

Ah, Hal and his infamous mother were finally here!

Thranduil scrambled to the door, swinging it open with a big smile on his face. Before he could even get a word in, he was attacked with a barrage of shrieking and wailing and various noises of excitement.

“Ohhh! Merry Christmas, my sweet, darling Thran!” Hal’s mom cried, clutching on to Thranduil’s elbows before stretching up to wrap her arms around his neck. She pressed a quick kiss to his right cheek and then his left. He bent down to give her a hug, getting a strong whiff of her perfume.

“Hi, Mumzie. Merry Christmas,” he said, grinning. “It’s good to see you.” For as long as he’d known Hal’s mom, she always went by ‘Mumzie’ – all of Hal’s friends had called her that and somehow it stuck. Thranduil never knew her as anything else. She was Mumzie – as much a mother to Thranduil as she was to Hal.

“So good to see you my sweetest little buttered muffin! Have you gotten taller? Look at you! You’re like a tree! And so thin!” She gasped, backing up so she could look Thranduil up and down, as she placed her hands on her hips. “Are you eating enough? You’re looking skinny, Thranduil. You need to eat more, my dear.”

“Mumzie, I’m fine. I’m eating enough. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” He took Mumzie’s coat and hung it up in the closet.

“Her knickers are always in a twist,” Hal laughed.

“Oh, quiet, Hally! Thran, I brought enough dessert to stuff you. Should be enough to put some meat back on those bones!”

“He’s getting enough meat. If you catch my drift!” Hal snickered, pushing Thranduil out of the way so he could hang up his own coat. “Scoot your big ass!”

Thranduil sighed, rolling his eyes as he moved out of Hal’s way. Hal fetched Mumzie’s desserts from the entrance table, laughing.

“Oh!” Mumzie cried. “Speaking of such. I brought you some Christmas themed condoms! And lots of lube – in various flavours, of course. I know the things you boys get up to!” She began to dig around in her purse, cursing when she couldn’t find what she was searching for.

“Let’s go to the kitchen and I can get you something to drink, okay?”

“Yes, honeybunches. I’ll find your lube in a minute. This damned purse is too big!”

“What would you like to drink?” Thranduil asked as he led Hal and Mumzie into the kitchen. Hal put Mumzie’s desserts into the fridge and took a seat on a stool at the island counter.

“Oh, some scotch would be lovely!” Mumzie said,  continuing to rummage through her purse.

“You do not need scotch! You’ll get all rowdy and sexual,” Hal groaned. “We do not need to witness that!”

“Oh, ho, ho! Like you got all rowdy and sexual the other night, my sweet cupcake? Why don’t you tell Thran about what you did, hmm?”

“God, Mumzie, no!” Hal flailed, turning bright red.

Thranduil laughed. Oh, how rewarding was it to see Hal get flustered? Hal was normally the one flustering Thranduil and getting into his personal business, so it was a welcome change to see the tables turn.

Mumzie waved a hand. “Well, I’ll tell him then. Hal had a—”

“No! No! No! Stop, Mumzie! Thran doesn’t want to know!”

“Lies. I would love to know!” Thranduil grinned widely, taking out a bottle of Glenfiddich from the pantry. He added two ice cubes and poured a little of the scotch into the glass, then gave it to Mumzie.

“Thank you, love. Hal had a one night stand—”

“It was a fail,” Hal interrupted, his voice going suspiciously high. “It never even happened!”

“Because you had no lube in your car! Which is why I’ve brought a whole stash for you boys.”

Thranduil burst out in a fit of laughter. Oh, it was so good to see Hal get all worked up! His mom was just as much of a gossip as him. She loved a good story, and loved to tell a good story even more.

“Jesus fucking Mary and Joseph, Mumzie! Thran, I think I need a glass of scotch now, too.”

“So, honey,” Mumzie spoke to Thranduil, ignoring Hal’s embarrassment, “Hal told me you have a new boyfriend – a very gorgeous new boyfriend at that.” She grinned with pride as she took languid sips of her drink.

Thranduil nodded, giving Hal a pointed glare. “Hal is right. I do.”

“He won’t give me any details, though,” Hal cut in. “Such an old prude.”

“Pft, old prude, my ass,” Thranduil scoffed. “I’m definitely not an old prude, but at the same time, I’m not going to tell either of you hens anything.”

“Aw, that’s a good sign, honey. He means a lot to you, then.”

“He does,” Thranduil smiled. “So no intimate questions.”

“Pish, posh, I can read your expressions easily enough without you saying a word,” Hal snickered, taking the drink Thranduil had finally poured for him.

“He got that from me,” Mumzie chuckled. “Just like your mother, aren’t you?”

Hal nodded, pursing his lips. “Oh, Thran. I should probably give you your Christmas present….before Legolas decides to bombard us.”

“He’s in the shower. And probably adding more colour to his hair.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see that little cutie!” Mumzie said.

“He’s grown a lot since the last time you saw him in the summer.”

“I’m still gonna pinch his little chipmunk cheeks.”

As Thranduil talked to Mumzie about how Legolas was doing, Hal flitted off somewhere. Thranduil could only imagine what kind of present Hal got for him. He always got something filthy and sexual– gag gifts. Some of them Thranduil had actually put to use, but others just piled up in a large bag in his closet. They all held fond memories, though.

Hal took longer than Thranduil expected, which gave Mumzie the perfect opportunity to ask Thranduil all about Bard.

“So, sweetie, tell me about your new boyfriend. I hope he’s better than the last.”

“Oh, he is. There’s no comparison. They’re nothing alike, thank the gods.”

“Good, good. What’s his name? How old is he? Where did you two meet?”

“His name is Bard, he’s thirty-five and we met at a bar.”

“A bar?” Mumzie’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead. She knew Thranduil wasn’t the bar-hopping type.

“I went there to escape Galion. He was being particularly…violent one night, so I took Legolas to his friend’s house and went out. I needed a drink so I went to the closest place, and that’s when I saw him – sitting at the bar, drinking by himself. He was gorgeous, but he looked lonely, so I sent him a drink. And then I drew him.”

“Oooh,” Mumzie cooed, listening intently.

“It had been a while since I’d been so inspired to draw someone, and I was feeling a little bold, so as he was leaving I gave him my number. And a few days later, he called me.”

“Oh, Thran! That is so sweet. And he’s a nice guy? He treats you well?”

Thranduil nodded vehemently. God, no one treated him better than Bard did. Thinking about it made butterflies dance in the pit of his stomach. His smile was clear evidence of just how happy he was. “He treats me better than anyone ever has. He’s such a sweetheart.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.”

“Oh! I am so happy, my dear!” Mumzie dug around in her purse, beaming when she pulled out packets of lube and tossed them on the counter. “Here’s the lube. It’s very important, as you know.”

Thranduil snorted out a laugh. “Oh, I know. But don’t worry, Mumzie. I don’t need it yet.”

“Oh? So no sex yet? How long have you two been together?”

“Only like a month… So no, no sex yet…at least not the kind that needs lube. I want to…take things slow with him. Make sure we both want the same thing. He was in a bad relationship and I want him to know that I truly do love him, and don’t just want him for sex. Because I don’t. For the first time in a long time, I don’t need sex to make me feel good. The way he looks at me is different than the way others look at me – like I mean more to him than just a piece of ass.”

“Oh, Thran!” Hal wailed, reappearing around the corner with a gift bag in his hand. “That is the sweetest thing I have ever heard! You really are in love!”

“Oh, shush, Hal.”

“It’s so good to see you happy, and with a man you deserve to be with, someone who treats you like gold. Oh, my sweet Thran!” Mumzie slid off the stool and pulled Thranduil into a tight embrace. “It’s a Christmas miracle!”

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Hal said, joining in on the hug and setting the gift bag on the counter in front of Thranduil.

“I have your gift, too, Hal,” Thranduil stated, nervous to see what Hal had gotten for him. The likelihood of it being a sex toy was high. Hal always got him sex toys.

“Later, later. Open this first,” Hal beamed as Thranduil took the bag and began to pull out the tissue paper. “To keep up with tradition, I got you something that you can put in your ass.”

Thranduil snorted. “Oh, my fucking god, Hal!” He pulled out a box, and if the picture of the front was any indication, it was some sort of….anal massager. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Is this actually what’s in the box?” Thranduil opened the box and pulled out its contents. “It’s like a fucking fancy stick shift.”

Hal and Mumzie both laughed at Thranduil’s reaction.

“It’s a prostate massager.”

“It works wonders,” Mumzie said. “Hal can attest to that.”

“I can, indeed.”

“It’s fucking huge.” Thranduil winced, examining the smooth, twisted object.

“Don’t give me that look,” Hal chuckled. “I know you’re gonna try it!”

“Well, maybe so,” Thranduil shrugged. “Doesn’t make it any less huge.”

“You like the huge ones,” Hal conceded. “But that’s not all! Open the card.”

“Let me guess, a membership to some BDSM club. Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Thranduil laughed, putting the ‘prostate massager’ back in its box and tucking it out of sight into the gift bag.

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

Thranduil opened the card, his grin slowly shifting into a more appreciative smile. Inside the card were two gift cards. A five-hundred dollar gift card for his favourite Italian restaurant and another five-hundred dollar gift card to his favourite art supply store.

“Hal…”

“I know you’re a pig, but the restaurant gift card isn’t meant for you alone, it’s meant for you and Bard. Take him out for dinner, you old hermit!”

“Hal, this is sweet of you. Thank you.” Thranduil pulled Hal into a hug, successfully silencing Hal, if only for a second.

“Awww,” Mumzie said, throwing a hand over her heart, the same gesture Hal always did. “You boys are going to give me a toothache.”

Before long, Legolas had joined them, and Mumzie embraced him, complimenting the red and green streaks in his hair. While Legolas was being praised by both Hal and his mom, Thranduil slipped away with Hal’s gift bag in hand so Legolas wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it. He raced up to his bedroom, stored the bag in his closet and snatched two wrapped gifts – the one for Hal and the one for Mumzie. Then, he trotted back downstairs and presented them with their gifts. Hal flailed for nearly two minutes straight when he unveiled his cufflinks. Thranduil thought they were a bit tacky, but Hal had been going on about them for months. And somehow, Hal seemed to defy all odds and make tacky and gaudy look good. Thranduil had also gotten him a private lesson with a pastry chef, since that had been Hal’s dream job since he was a child, along with a gift card to his favourite store and some random baking tools. The flailing ensued as Hal admired his gifts. Thranduil and Legolas laughed at the squealing sounds that came out of Hal’s mouth when he voiced his excitement for the private baking lesson.

“My baking game is going to be so strong now,” Hal boasted. “If I went on one of those baking shows, I’d win hands down!” Hal’s grin was contagious. He flung his arms around Thranduil’s neck, spewing words of thanks in Thranduil’s ear.

“You’d certainly be the cutest on the show,” Mumzie chuckled, opening up her gift now that Hal had finished with his.

Flailing seemed to run in Hal’s family. Mumzie’s gasp sounded closer to the high-pitched wail of a siren as she opened her gift. That was a good sign. Thranduil had known just how badly she longed to have a certain pair of pearl earrings and the necklace to match, so picking out her gift had been an easy task, and he was gratified by her appreciation.

After the excitement of the gift exchange had died down, they all sat around the dining room table for Christmas dinner. What had taken hours to prepare, took only minutes to consume. No one spoke. They barely even came up for a breath as they shoveled food into their mouths. Thranduil and Legolas had eaten breakfast quite early and had nothing else all day, so both of them were famished. The only sounds at the table came from Hal, who moaned in ecstasy with almost every bite he took. He was a true foodie, savouring every morsel of his food, praising the time and effort Thranduil had put into the preparation of the meal. Mumzie’s praise was just as exuberant, though the sounds she made were far less theatrical. Even with his mouth full of potatoes, Legolas laughed at the expressions that contorted Hal’s face. If someone could win an Oscar for most compelling performance during a meal, it would definitely be Hal. Though, Thranduil was particularly grateful that Hal didn’t use his usual exclamations, seeing as they were in the company of a child. For Legolas to hear _‘oh, fuck me up!’_ , or _‘it’s like someone came in my mouth!’_ would not be appropriate at all.

Once they finished their meal and cleaned up the kitchen, they retired to the sitting room and ate Mumzie’s dessert leisurely. Legolas sat on the floor so he could eat and play with his new toys at the same time. Mumzie and Hal had another glass of scotch, and Thranduil followed suit. Normally he would be the first one to indulge in the alcoholic beverages, but he figured it wasn’t good to be tipsy while serving food. Now that he could relax, he filled his glass and sat on the sofa. After bustling about in the kitchen most of the day, it felt good to sit down and finally get a chance to breathe.

As evening turned to night and more alcohol was consumed, the stories Mumzie and Hal told became all the more outrageous. By ten o’clock, Legolas had fallen asleep on the floor, so Thranduil scooped him up and took him to bed.

Somehow, Thranduil ended up in the garage with Mumzie. Hal was inside doing god knows what – eating more food, tidying up, playing with that prostate massager – any of those scenarios could be true.

Right now, Thranduil was enjoying his time with Hal’s mom.

“You’re still smoking those old Vogue cigarettes?” Thranduil laughed as Mumzie lit her smoke with a pink lighter.

“If I recall, you used to steal my old Vogue cigarettes when you were fourteen,” she chuckled, taking a long drag of the cigarette.

Thranduil snorted. “I guess I was desperate.” He pulled out one of his cigarettes and promptly lit it.

By this point, the two of them had consumed far too much scotch to speak coherently, and as they chain smoked several cigarettes, Mumzie indulged Thranduil in some wild stories from her youth.

“You know, once I had anal sex,” she slurred, sipping at her drink. Thranduil’s eyebrows went up and he couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping. “It hurt like a bitch, I tell you. I don’t know how you boys do it!”

“Lots of practice,” Thranduil snickered.

“Oh, don’t give me that bull! It feels like being constipated. Just awful.”

Thranduil burst out into a fit of laughter, almost dropping his cigarette on the ground. “You need to use tons of lube. Just slather it on there! And you gotta learn to relax your body.”

“I guess I’ll always be too tense for such a trusting activity. I commend you boys. The lengths you go to for pleasure. So…you haven’t done it with your new boyfriend then?”

“No. You know, he’s never been with a man before,” Thranduil said.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll make his first ride quite the experience,” Mumzie chuckled. “Especially since you love him.”

Thranduil nodded as he finished his smoke and lit another. “He deserves the best. He treats me like a god. So different than how that fucking piece of shit treated me.”

“Oh, honey,” Mumzie exhaled a pensive sigh. When she spoke again after a few moments, her tone had shifted. “Hal told me.”

“Told you what?” Thranduil glanced over at her. Her brows were creased and the look in her eyes was solemn.

“What that fucking rat bastard did to you. I’m so sorry, darling. You did not deserve that. No one deserves to be hurt like that.”

“Mumzie,” Thranduil said, swallowing so hard that his voice came out broken and small. She pulled him into her arms and began to rub his arm soothingly.

“You don’t have to say anything, sweetie. I just want to know that you’re alright.”

“I’m alright. Bard makes it better.”

“I’m glad he does. And because I love you like a son, I will tell you this…” Mumzie took a deep breath before continuing. “You can’t rely on him for your happiness. If you use him as a crutch, you will never be content on your own, you will always need him to provide you with your happiness and it won’t be your own. It needs to come from within. You need to find strength in yourself. I know you’ve been hurt badly and I know how you are. You try to cover things up, pretend you’re okay, when really you are in pain on the inside.”

“Mumzie, please,” Thranduil murmured, clutching his glass of scotch tightly in his hand.

“Just hear me out. You mean a lot to me, and I want to see you living the life you deserve. I want to see you happy. And I am more than thrilled that you found someone who treats you so well, but that means nothing if you don’t treat yourself with the same kindness. So, please take care of yourself, sunshine.”

“I will, I will. I’m going to therapy on Monday.”

“Oh, this is good news. I think that will be very helpful. Anyone and everyone can benefit from therapy, from the perspective of another person, especially a professional.”

“I’m nervous, but I think it will be good to vent and get things off my chest.”

“Yes, honey, it will be a weight off your shoulders.”

Conversation turned lighter after that and before long, Hal popped his head into the garage, waving a hand in front of his face.

“You’re fucking hotboxing the garage with cigarettes. Phew! It stinks.” Hal held his nose. “It’s time to go home, Mumzie. You’re drunk and you need to sleep.”

“Yes, yes, my dearest child, I’m getting up,” Mumzie shoved herself off the step and struggled to make her way out to Hal’s Audi. Thranduil was able to keep his balance, so he helped her to the passenger’s seat, gave her a kiss on the cheek and thanked her for their little talk.

Hal waved goodbye to Thranduil and with a chuckle, reminded Thranduil to try out his ‘fancy stick shift’ tonight. Thranduil brushed him off, but the idea had been planted in his head. They said goodnight and Thranduil stumbled back into the house, remembering that Bard was supposed to call him.

He ran upstairs for his phone, thinking about Bard and that damned sex toy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thran drinks too much
> 
> Oh, btw....Listen to 'Love Exists' by Amy Lee. That's Bard and Thran's song.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been slow :(

The first call Bard made to Thranduil went unanswered.

He didn’t worry about it because he knew Thranduil was most likely still with Hal and Hal’s mom. A few minutes after he made that call, his phone buzzed. He checked it with a smile, thinking it would be Thranduil getting back to him. But it was his boss – he wanted to know if Bard could work tomorrow and Sunday.

Bard’s first reaction was to ignore the text, or to say no, but then he remembered the debt he was in. So after a few minutes of consideration, he texted his boss back saying that he would take both shifts. He really didn’t want to work on the weekend, but he knew he needed the money. He only agreed to be in tomorrow at ten since he would have to get the children up and either take them to Nan’s for the day, or make sure Sigrid didn’t have plans and would be willing to watch her siblings.

Bard didn’t like leaving them alone all day, so taking them to Nan’s was the better option. He made a quick call to his ma, hoping she was still up and he wouldn’t wake her. She answered right away and graciously agreed to watch the children tomorrow and Sunday while Bard worked.

He reclined in bed, the calculator app open on his phone as he keyed in numbers, trying to figure out how much overtime he would have to work to pay for the children’s Christmas presents. He wouldn’t be out of debt by paying it off, though. There was still so much accumulating debt that Bard had to worry about – bills, property taxes, gas, groceries… It seemed endless. He’d never be out of debt, but he’d get by…somehow. He had to.

As he added up amounts on the calculator, his phone rang, indicting an incoming call from Thranduil. Thank the gods! Something to get his mind off his fucking financial woes.

“Hey, doll,” he answered, his lips curling into a half-smile as a ripple of warmth settled in his chest.

“Heeeeey, lover face,” Thranduil greeted, his voice higher pitched than usual. From the sounds of his giggles, Thranduil was either drunk or very, very happy. Before Bard could reply, Thranduil’s giggles morphed into a trilling purr. “Soooo…how’s my gorgeous man, hmm?”

Yup. Definitely drunk, bordering on wasted.

The way Thranduil’s words blended together in a slur, a slight lilt to his tone told Bard that he’d clearly had quite a bit to drink. Whether it was because he had been celebrating with Hal and Hal’s mom, or because something had happened that he needed to numb out, Bard wasn’t sure. He sounded happy, though, so Bard went with it, not wanting to question it and end up quashing Thranduil’s mood.

“I’m good,” Bard chuckled. “How’re you? You sound quite jolly – appropriate for the occasion.”

Thranduil snorted. “I’m just dandy. Did you like my onesie?”

“It was adorable.”

“D-did you like the bum flap?” Thranduil’s voice lowered, smooth and buttery like honey.

“Bum flap?” Bard grinned. Thranduil hadn’t shown him any bum flap, but now he was curious.

“Oh no! You didn’t see the bum flap,” Thranduil griped, clicking his tongue. “And the tail! If you pull it, I make all sorts of sounds!” He laughed. The sound was contagious, drawing another chuckle from Bard.

“It sounds like my doll is flying pretty high right now,” Bard said. “Sounds like you’ve been drinking.”

“I’m drunk,” Thranduil announced proudly. The shrill giggles returned, but were short lived, as if Thranduil had cupped a hand over his mouth to drown out the sound.

“I can tell. You’ve had a full day, haven’t you?”

“Yes, yes – full and wide!”

“Did you have a good time with Hal and his mom?”

“Mmhmm! Mumzie brought lube and condoms – turkey flavored condoms. I slipped those ones back in her purse. Savory condoms are disgusting.”

Bard laughed trying to conjure up an image of Hal’s mom in his mind. It seemed she was just as outrageous as her son. “I couldn’t agree more. Mumzie sounds like quite the lady.”

“Oh, she is! Just like Hal. A complete riot. So, how was your day?”

“Oh, it was great. We had a good time.”

“Did the kids have fun?”

“Yes, they enjoyed themselves.”

“Good, good, good!” The sound of clapping could be heard, followed by shuffling and a grunt. Then bubbling laughter echoed softly in Bard’s ear, drawing a chuckle from his parted lips.

“What’re you doing, doll?”

“Just gettin’ comfy.”

“Are you in bed?”

“Uh-huh. I wish you were here, baby. I wanna cuddle.”

“I wish I was there to cuddle you.”

“Oh! Leggles painted for me!”

“Did he? That’s sweet. You remember the paint stuff you gave to Bain? Well, he used it and painted something for me, too. And, I still can’t believe how good it is. I’m so proud of him.”

Thranduil squealed. “Oh, really?! I wanna see! I bet it’s lovely.”

“It is. I’ll take a picture tomorrow and send it to you.”

“Good! I can’t wait to see it. He should paint some stuff for that _‘Art in the Park’_ festival that comes in June.”

“That’s a great idea. I’ll make sure to mention that to him.”

“I was his age when I sold my first painting and it was at that festival. Mrs. Johnson bought a shitty abstract for around seventy dollars. She liked the colours I used. I still remember how awful it was, but she believed in me. I’m sure Bain could sell some of his work, too.”

“Well, that’s exciting. I’m sure Bain would be over the moon if he could sell his paintings. It would be a nice confidence boost for him, too. He’s still shy about showing his work.”

“He’ll get comfortable with it eventually. It takes time. I was a shy-ass motherfucker once, too. And now look at me,” Thranduil laughed.

“Maybe one day he’ll be as good as you,” Bard said. He absently wondered if one day his photography would be anywhere near the level of Thranduil’s work. God, what a ridiculous thought. Of course it wouldn’t. Thranduil had been painting all his life. It was his career. Bard’s photography was only a hobby, and would likely remain so until the end of time.

“I’m sure he will,” Thranduil hummed.

“Um, I have a bit of bad news, doll,” Bard announced. As much as he wanted to see Thranduil on the weekend – he’d planned for them to go out to the lake to try out his new camera – he knew that now it wasn’t going to happen because he had to work.

“Bad news? Oh no! What, what?”

“I have to work a lot this week, so we might not get to see each other very often…”

“Wooooork!” Thranduil grunted out a disdainful sound. “That sucks. We won’t be able to fuck!”

Bard snorted in laughter. “I will miss your sweet ass, but I kinda need the extra hours…” He didn’t want to say that he was so far in debt that he didn’t know if he’d ever dig himself out. Thranduil didn’t need to know that, and Bard was pretty sure Thranduil was too drunk right now to comprehend.

Thranduil hummed, a soft, melodic tune. “Thasssokay.”

“Gotta pay for the children’s Christmas presents.”

“You’re a good dad, baby. A sexy dad.”

Bard chuckled, not knowing how to respond to Thranduil’s drunken words, or if he even needed to grace such comments with a response at all. “I try,” was all he said. “We’ll find some time to see each other, though. Ma and Da are gonna take the children on the weekend, so we’ll work it out.”

“Mmhmm, good, good...” Thranduil’s voice had become a string of diluted murmurs at this point, so Bard figured he’d quickly share his good news, and then let Thranduil get some sleep to restore himself.

“And now for the good news,” Bard began, waiting to see if Thranduil would be able to reply.

“Good news is better than bad news. Tell, tell.”

“Well, my parents got me a camera and a ton of equipment for Christmas. It’s just brilliant. I can’t wait for you to see it all.”

“Ohhh!” Bard heard the sound of clapping and then a little yelp. “…thasss great news!”

“Doll, are you okay?”

“Dropped phone on my face. Is okay,” Thranduil attested with a giggle.

Bard smiled. Thranduil really did need to get some sleep. “Listen, babe, take your sweet ass to bed and get some rest, okay?”

“Mmmkay. I’m already in bed. Naked!”

“Nothing new there, huh?”

A snort. “Nothin’ new at all! I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yup. Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Bard didn’t have time to stop the words from rolling off his tongue. “And I hope next year we’ll get to spend Christmas together.”

Shit, why did he say that? He hoped to all the gods that Thranduil was drunk enough not to remember come morning.

“Me, too,” Thranduil said, making kissy sounds. “Night, baby.”

“Night, love. Sleep well.” Bard disconnected the call, dropping the phone beside him with a huff.

He smiled despite the clawing embarrassment in his stomach. How presumptuous of him to say such a thing! He didn’t fight the embarrassment; he let it take over as he crawled under the covers. If he was lucky, Thranduil wouldn’t remember.

So many thoughts flooded Bard’s mind – worries of debt and working overtime to make ends meet, how adorable Thranduil was when he could barely string together a sentence, how badly he wished Thranduil was lying next to him at this very moment, excitement over his new camera and longing to be able to pop in a roll of film and go outside to take a few shots… He’d have to wait. Work was his number one priority right now. It fucking sucked, but that was life. Couldn’t always get what you wanted. Bard had come to accept that. Still… he wished he could have Thranduil in his arms to soothe the ache in his chest.

Somehow, in the midst of all these thoughts, Bard managed to drift off to sleep.

***

Work was absolute fucking shit.

Bard couldn’t count the amount of times he got yelled at by his boss. All he did was tell a customer that their car was not fit to be on the roads and suggest all the repairs that needed to be made, but of course, the customer bitched at him and refused to have so much work done to their car. So they complained to Bard’s boss about his ‘unnecessarily rude’ behavior. For fuck’s sake! The car wasn’t safe to be on the road! Bard was only trying to do the right thing, and yet he got reprimanded for it.

At least tomorrow was only a six hour shift. The shop opened at eleven and closed at five. But today, he had to work until six o'clock, and only managed to leave by six-thirty. He had to pick the children up from his parents’ house and rush home to make supper. And then he’d have to take them back to his parents’ the very next day. They’d be spending a few days there since Bard had to work all week. Thank god the shop was closed on Friday for New Years. And he hoped he’d be able to see Thranduil after work on Thursday. He’d just have to hold on for five more days.

While he made supper, he wondered what Thranduil must think of him. After all, he was no more than a common blue collar laborer struggling to get by and not drown into his pit of debt. He always seemed to have these thoughts when he was away from Thranduil – never when they were together. Thranduil showed him such kindness and love that Bard’s lowly status was the last thing on his mind. But alone with nothing but his own thoughts, he couldn’t help but fear the worst. God, Thranduil could easily dump him and find someone much better. Another likeminded artist, perhaps. Another rich person who wouldn’t feel like such a bum in that huge mansion.

But, no.

No one would love Thranduil the way Bard did.

***

The sound of repeated clattering on Thranduil’s door woke him from his slumber.

_Shit._

What time was it?

He opened his eyes to mere slits, checking the time on the clock. Almost eleven! Legolas was trying to wake him.

“Ada! Wake up! What are you doing? Are you dead?” Came his son’s voice from the other side of the door.

Thranduil fell out of bed and scrambled for clothes, pulling on a pair of sweatpants he found on the floor beside the bed. He stumbled to the dresser, yanked a shirt over his head and opened his bedroom door.

“Leaf. I’m sorry. I didn’t set an alarm, so I was still asleep,” he explained, pulling Legolas in for a hug.

Legolas hugged him back, but gave him a pointed look once they broke apart.

“Did you get drunk with Mumzie last night?” Legolas asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Only a bit. But I’m good now. What do you want for breakfast?” The words poured from Thranduil’s lips. He was desperate to talk of anything other than his drunkenness.

“You mean brunch,” Legolas raised his eyebrows at Thranduil before making for the stairs.

“Yeah, brunch. What would you like?”

Legolas asked Thranduil to make ham and asparagus omelets, and of course, Thranduil complied. He felt bad enough for sleeping in until almost eleven that he’d pretty much do anything to make it up to Legolas.

As he stood in front of the stove, flipping omelets in a pan, he tried to recall what the hell he’d done last night after Hal and Mumzie left.

He’d struggled up the stairs, fumbled out of his onesie, examined that prostate massager as if he had been intent on using it, but then he decided to call Bard instead.

Yes, he’d called Bard before he passed out naked atop the covers. What had he said to Bard? He most likely completely and utterly embarrassed himself. He always seemed to do and say the strangest things when he was drunk. He giggled too much, he blurted out thoughts that should never be said aloud, he asked stupid questions – how many of those things did he do while speaking on the phone with Bard last night?

At least he wasn’t an angry drunk. So, hopefully Bard didn’t think too poorly of him. He tried not to think about it as he sat down at the kitchen table with Legolas. But, fuck, his head pounded – a fucking horrible reminder of why he very rarely consumed scotch. The stuff messed with him. Wine he could handle, but scotch… no, just no.

Trying to tamp down his thoughts didn’t work, so he ended up zoning out while eating. He remembered that Bard said he had to work today. And something about painting… Yes, they talked about painting. Right, Bard’s son had painted a picture, just as Legolas had. And Bard was proud and was supposed to send Thranduil a photo of what Bain had painted.

What else had they talked about?

He mentioned his onesie… Or did he?

The beginning of their conversation was clearer, but he couldn’t remember the tail-end of it. Whatever they’d talked about had bled into the vast abyss of Thranduil’s mind to the point that it was impossible to recollect Bard’s words.

Bard was at work, though – that much Thranduil was sure of.

When Thranduil looked up from his plate, he noticed that Legolas was no longer at the table. How long had he sat there, zoned out?

“Leaf?”

“I’m here,” Legolas said. The sound crept up on Thranduil’s senses, causing him to jump in his seat. Legolas was right behind him. “I’ll take your plate. Finish your tea, Ada. You’re hungover.” Legolas’s voice was loud, too loud. It rang in the back of Thranduil’s head, making everything spin.

Thranduil hummed, sipping at his tea, allowing himself to zone out again.

He and Legolas spent most of the day doing absolutely nothing. Legolas played with his new toys and Thranduil sat around on the sofa, downing as many bottles of water as he could handle.

By late afternoon, after taking a few tablets of advil, Thranduil went down to his studio to paint. He had things to do and a hangover was not going to stop him. As usual, he lost track of time and only abandoned his work when Legolas came down the stairs and asked him what he was going to make for dinner. He wasn’t satisfied with the amount of work he’d completed, so after a hearty meal of three-cheese pasta and salad, Thranduil sat in front of his easel once more, dragging thin lines of paint down the length of the canvas.

He had no idea what he was doing, but somehow it turned out better than expected.

After a few more hours of work, his phone rang.

He answered it quickly when he saw Bard’s name on the screen.

Instead of greeting Bard with a ‘hello’, Thranduil blurted out the first thing on his mind.

“Babe, I’m sorry about last night – I hope I didn’t say anything embarrassing.”

Bard chuckled softly. “Hey, doll – nah, nothing embarrassing. You were pretty drunk, though, huh?”

“God, Mumzie wanted to have scotch, so I ended up drinking with her.”

“Ew, scotch.”

“Tastes like paint thinner, I know. Horrible.”

“Hope you’re okay now, doll. How’s your head?”

Thranduil hummed, whisking a paint brush around in a jar of water. “It’s okay, still a little sensitive to sound. But it’s much better than this morning.” In an effort to steer the conversation away from his drunken behavior, Thranduil recalled something Bard had told him last night. “You said you got a new camera? Tell me about it.”

As soon as Thranduil asked about the new camera, Bard’s voice took on a very excited tone. He rattled off all the details to Thranduil – the various lenses that came with it, the filters and what exactly lomography was. Thranduil had no idea. He ended up putting Bard on speakerphone so he could look up examples of lomo photographs on the internet. The style really suited Bard and he was eager to see what kinds of shots Bard would take. Thranduil was more than pleased when Bard suggested another photoshoot. He asked Thranduil if he would consider posing in the snow. God, did Bard not know by now that Thranduil would do pretty much anything to make him happy? It made him feel good to know he could help Bard with his photography. Bard lamented that he would have to wait a while before he’d get a chance to play with his camera, though, since he had to work so much overtime this week.

“I already miss you. I didn’t expect to have to work so much this week…”

“I know, baby. I miss you, too.”

“…But I kind of have to…”

Thranduil didn’t want to say anything, but he figured Bard needed the extra money. He wasn’t blind – he knew Bard struggled financially, especially now that he was a single dad, so to speak. “You do what you have to do. We’ll see each other eventually. Do you work on New Year’s Eve?”

There was a pause. “Um, yeah. It’s time and a half and I need the – well, yeah, it’s too good to pass up, so I told my boss I’d work.”

Thranduil hummed. “I understand, babe.”

The pause this time grew longer. “Damn, Thran – I might as well say it. I’m the sole breadwinner now that Madison’s gone and I kinda went overboard on the children’s Christmas presents, so yeah…it’s not easy…”

“I know…I’m sorry, love. I don’t mean to pressure you into spending time with me. Family comes first.”

“You’re not pressuring me, doll. I want to see you, too.”

“I know, but you gotta do what you gotta do,” Thranduil said, nodding. An idea sprang into his mind – he could somehow help Bard sell his photographs.

“Oh, hey – did you want to see Bain’s painting? I took a picture this morning in the daylight. It looks great.”

“Oh, yes! Let’s see!”

It took Bard a minute to figure out how to send the picture without disconnecting the call, but finally the picture appeared in Thranduil’s messages. He let out a little squeal when he saw it.

“Did you get it?” Bard asked.

“Oh, my god, Bard! This is amazing! He really did this?”

“Yes, my son did that! It’s extraordinary, isn’t it?” Bard’s enthusiasm made Thranduil’s smile grow tenfold.

“Just wonderful! I am speechless!”

“Maybe when you meet him you can tell him what you think. I keep telling him how brilliant it is, but I’m just me, just simple old Da. It would mean a lot for him to hear the opinion of a real artist.”

“Oh, of course I will tell him. He really should show his stuff at the art festival!”

“I’ll suggest the art festival, too.”

“You think he’d want to sell some of his work?”

“Oh, yeah – that’s his dream.”

“It would be nice for him to see that it’s possible to make a living doing what he enjoys.”

“Maybe one day I’ll be able to do that with my photography...” Bard’s voice was pensive, deep in thought.

“I’m sure you could, baby,” Thranduil encouraged. He knew Bard must be in the midst of worrying about money. He was silent for a few moments. “Babe… is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry, Thran. I don’t want to put this on you. I’m just sort of overwhelmed at the moment. I just wanted the kids to have a good holiday, you know. They’ve been through such a slew of crap after their mother abandoned them. I just wanted to make them happy. And now I’m trying to balance things out and I just… I hope you don’t forget me along the way, doll.”

“Bard, I could never forget you,” Thranduil whispered, his throat tightening.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m just so beneath you. You’ve got all this money and I’m just your filthy grease monkey boyfriend from the slums…”

“Hey, now! Don’t talk about yourself like that. You know I love you just the way you are. So stop putting yourself down.” Thranduil took a deep breath. “I know shit’s hard, baby. I wish I knew what to do. I’d gladly pay off all your debt, but I know you’d never let me.”

“No, you’re right; I wouldn’t let you do that.”

“I feel pretty useless,” Thranduil admitted.

“No, babe. You’re not useless; you do so much for me.”

Thranduil couldn’t stop himself. He had to make the suggestion, plant the seed in Bard’s mind and hope that maybe something would grow from it. “I, um - I bet you could sell your photos and make some money that way. Have you ever considered that?”

Bard’s chuckle was rueful. “I dunno, Thran. You haven’t even seen my contemplative shots… How do you know if they’re any good?”

“Well, if they’re anything like your other photos, I’m sure they’re amazing. Do you have any of them on your phone? I’d love to see.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few on here. Actually…hold on.” There was a pause before Bard spoke again. “I have a few of my favorites on here. I can show you, if you want…” Why did Bard sound so hesitant? Did he really not see the potential of his work, or had he just been told his photography was a waste of time for so many years that he actually started believing it?

“Yeah, send them. I wanna see,” Thranduil urged.

Within seconds, five pictures appeared. Thranduil bit back the sound that wanted to escape between his lips. His eyes widened as he examined each image. A detailed macro shot of a stone wall, littered with lichen. A colorful shot of what appeared to be an oil spill, but closely resembled a rainbow. A shot of broken glass reflecting the warmth of a sunset. A close up of the thin, wispy veins of a leaf. Droplets of water creating clear tracks along a dirty window.

“Babe!” Thranduil exclaimed. “Oh my god! These are amazing! Holy shit.”

“You really think so?” Bard asked.

“Hell yes. They are stunning.”

“Thanks, doll. Those five are the ones I’m most proud of.”

“They’re so good I’d hang them all in my new house. I especially like the one of the leaf. I’d hang that in my bedroom.”

Bard chuckled. “If you like it, it’s yours.”

“I will pay for it. You deserve it, you know.”

“No, no,” Bard protested. “You’ve given me so much, Thran. Let me give you something.”

“You already give me everything,” Thranduil smiled.

“That one is one of my favourites and it would make me happy to know that it went to my lover.”

His smile widened and he put his hand over his heart. God, his whole body felt like it was overheating. “It will go above my bed,” Thranduil said.

At that moment, he thought of Mrs. Johnson and how she would love Bard’s work. A plan was beginning to formulate in his mind, all the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together. He didn’t speak a word of it to Bard, though. He’d have to see how it all played out first…

There was one other thought niggling in the back of his head. But before he could make the suggestion, he wanted to see all of Bard’s work.

“I can’t believe you actually like them,” Bard said, pulling Thranduil from his thoughts.

“I’d like to see all your stuff, if you’d allow it.”

“I’ve got them all on a hard drive. Next time we get together I could show you.”

Thranduil hummed. He liked that idea. He wanted to see everything. And then, when he and Bard were together, face to face, he would make his suggestion. He needed to see Bard’s reaction and not just hear it over the phone.

He and Bard talked for a while more about inconsequential things and made plans for the next time they would see each other. Tomorrow would not work and neither would Monday, as Thranduil had his first therapy session and Bard had to work all day. If they were lucky, they would get to see each other on New Year’s Day since Bard did not work then. Bard informed Thranduil that his children would be at their grandparents on New Year’s Eve and Bard would only pick them up the next day around midday. So perhaps they could see each other after Bard got off work on the thirty-first. Thranduil loved just how enthusiastic Bard was to see him. He told Thranduil he could come over as soon as his shift ended at five o’clock.

Hopefully by then Thranduil would have good news for Bard.

After their conversation came to an end, Thranduil scrolled through his contact list.

He found the name Rhoda Johnson, and hit the call button.

***

On Sunday afternoon, Thranduil dropped Legolas off at Hal’s house for a couple hours. He had an important visit with Mrs. Johnson. He hadn’t seen her since the summer when she’d commissioned him to do an abstract for her.

He arrived at her house, a manor on a large piece of property just off the lake, huddled between rows of sprawling pine trees. He waited to be buzzed in, laughing to himself at the splendor of such a place – the tall wrought iron gates, the statues perched atop the stone fence, the dried up water fountain in the center of the driveway.

Thranduil was barely out of his car before Mrs. Johnson came bustling down the front steps to greet him, an oversized cream colored shawl draped around her shoulders. Her white hair was pinned back into a tight bun and she wore her signature shade of pearl pink lipstick. She smiled brightly at Thranduil and gave him a hug. She was such a tiny woman; Thranduil had to bend down just to embrace her. The smell of her White Diamonds perfume was like a cloud around her and Thranduil smiled, recalling memories of when he’d first gotten a whiff of that perfume at his first ever art show.

“It’s wonderful to see you, dear. I’ve missed you greatly,” Mrs. Johnson said, leading Thranduil up the steps and into the house.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Mrs. J,” Thranduil said as he removed his shoes. She took his coat from him, hanging it on a rack beside the door, and beckoned him to follow her into the sitting room.

“I’ve got tea for you, dear. Come, sit.” Mrs. Johnson took a seat, patting the spot beside her.

Thranduil sat down and took the small, delicate cup that was handed to him. “Ever the gracious host,” he grinned. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, dear. Now, you told me you had something to show me…” She took a languid sip of her tea. “You’ve certainly piqued my interest. So, out with it. Don’t keep an old woman waiting.” She chuckled as she added a sugar cube to her tea and stirred it gently.

“Well, I know how much you like abstract art. But what are your thoughts on abstract photography?” Thranduil raised an eyebrow. He held his phone in his hand, ready to show her Bard’s photographs. He tapped his thumb along the side of his phone in anticipation. He really hoped she would like Bard’s photos.

“You know me, dear. I am a collector of all things beautiful, be it paintings, photographs, sculpture, anything. Are you a photographer now?” She regarded Thranduil with keen interest, her eyes widening by the second, causing Thranduil’s excitement to grow.

“No, not me. A…friend of mine.”

“Ah, a friend,” she chuckled. “Who is this friend?”

“He’s a very talented photographer, but he’s never shown his work before, never sold anything.”

“So, like the sweetheart you are, you intent to help him on his way.”

Thranduil laughed. “I guess you could say that. You were the first person I thought of who might be interested. I’m sure you’d like to be the first to own a piece of his work.”

“Just as I was your first,” she smiled and took a long sip of her tea.

“Exactly. So when he becomes a big-time photographer, you can say you were his first ever paying customer.”

She set her tea down on the glass tray on the coffee table and folded her hands together on her lap. “The suspense is killing me, dear. I assume you have pictures of his work with you? I’d like to see them sometime in this age.” She laughed.

“Yes,” Thranduil swiped the screen of his phone. The pictures were already open so he handed the phone to Mrs. Johnson with a grin. “Take a look. I only have five of his photographs on here…”

“Oh, my dear!” Mrs. Johnson exclaimed. “This is beautiful.”

“Swipe to the left to see the others,” Thranduil said, leaning closer.

“Oh, you know me and technology,” she chuckled, swiping a pointed index finger across the small screen. “Oooh! Look at this one. The color! Oh, Thranduil! I love color; you know I love color!”

“You like it?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, too entranced as she swiped through the photos. “Hmm?” She finally looked up, nodding. “Yes, yes! All of them are just astounding. But that colorful one…. I want that one. It would look beautiful in here, wouldn’t it? Help brighten up the place.”

Thranduil grinned. “If you still have space on your walls.” He looked around the room, happy to see a few of his paintings hung upon the walls.

“I’ll make space. As I always say, one can never own too many pieces of art. Especially good art – it’s priceless. So… how much?”

“The price, you mean?”

“Yes, the price. Is it a digital photograph? Could it be made quite large? Big enough to fit over the mantle in the living room?”

“Yes, I could get it blown up to whatever size you’d like, and framed as well.”

For the next half hour they discussed pricing, and when they’d finally settled on a price, Thranduil could barely contain his excitement. Bard was going to be so thrilled! Thranduil wanted to tell him right this second, but he opted to wait until they would see each other on Thursday evening.

Hopefully he’d be able to wait that long. Keeping good news to himself had never been one of Thranduil’s strong points, but seeing Bard’s reaction in person would be worth the wait.

He and Mrs. Johnson spent a while longer catching up. She asked him about his paintings and ended up commissioning him to paint something for her.

“Whatever you want, dear. You have the reins and you can do anything your heart desires. You know I’m not fussy. Just make it nice and colorful. Spring colors, perhaps.”

Thranduil agreed and promised to give her a call on the weekend to let her know when Bard’s photograph would be ready and framed. Thranduil had assumed she would process the payment at that time, but instead, she pulled out her cheque book just as Thranduil slipped on his boots.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he zipped up his coat and wound his scarf around his neck. “You don’t have to pay yet.”

“What’s his name?” She questioned with a sly grin.

“Bard Bowman.”

“Have him sign the back of the photograph for me as well,” she said, scribbling on the cheque and then tearing it out and handing it to Thranduil.

Thranduil nodded. “You’ve never written a cheque before actually receiving your piece…”

“Well, this is different. Your Bard needs to know he’s worth it. I trust you to get me the piece whenever is convenient for you. No rush.”

“Thank you, Mrs. J. You’re the best.”

“You are, dear. Thank you for thinking of me. All this beautiful art brings an old lady such joy.”

“I’m glad,” Thranduil smiled and gave her a hug. “I’ll call you next weekend.”

He pocketed the cheque and made his way out to his car.

It seemed the smile on his face had become permanent.

***

Thranduil spent the rest of Sunday packing. He began in the kitchen. There was no rhyme or reason as to why he began there; he was in the kitchen making tea when the idea struck him. Plates, glasses and cutlery all went into boxes. He only kept out what he would need for him and Legolas to use for the next week or so. He still wasn’t sure when they’d be in the new house, but Thranduil was nothing if not prepared. He wanted to be ready, and as soon as he got the keys, he would begin driving back and forth between here and the new house to transfer boxes.

He got bored in the kitchen. There was too much and he didn’t know what he needed to keep out. He finished boxing up most of the mugs before abandoning his efforts in the kitchen all together. Perhaps he’d have better luck in his bedroom.

He went through shelves and drawers, clearing off all the books and random knick knacks. Such a bizarre assortment of items. Keychains, folded up pieces of paper that he’d written notes on, hair clips, a rubber chicken, liquid latex, shoe laces, a gay pride pin, candle lids, tweezers, a variety of pens – most of which had dried out ages ago, fishnet stockings, hand cream, a few small cologne samples which had become putrid-smelling over the years, a black matted wig…. Where did all of this shit come from? How had he accumulated so much junk? Most of the stuff he found went straight into the garbage, but a few items he kept for sentimental reasons. He unfolded the pieces of paper so he could see if what was written on them was of value, or if they belonged in the trash.

On the first piece of paper was a note written in his handwriting. He smiled as he read it.

_February 20, 2005 – 2:11am …so no, February 21, then._

_Well, well, well._

_It was fucking cold as balls out today. I had to walk home and the wind whipped me in the face – cruel and unforgiving, like the harsh slap of an ex-lover. I hate snow. Fuck off already._

_In gayer news…today Hal won an award for being the biggest slut in the entire world. Can you guess what he did?! I didn’t believe it at first, either. He had sex with Professor Linton. I gotta admit, I’m a little jealous._

_Will I die alone?_

_Probably._

_Or perhaps I will be the next to seduce Linton. I’d take him out for dinner and….no. He’d take me out for dinner because I’m broke and cheap and you know, if you give me food, I’ll do ANYTHING you want…and then he’d take me back to his office, cuff me, blindfold me and have his way with me on his desk. And Hal would watch. Hell, the whole class would watch._

_God, what’s wrong with me? I like to portray myself as something I am not. I’ve done it all my life and I doubt I’ll ever stop doing it. I wonder if anyone will ever see through the façade and try to uncover the real me?_

_I just smoked a fat blunt and I’m trying to paint a portrait of Hal’s childhood dog. It looks more like a fucking gorilla._

_Oh, fuck. More good news. To make some money, I signed up to model for a life drawing class. That should be interesting. I might have to get drunk since I have to be completely fucking NAKED in front of a whole classroom of people. But, fuck it. Since when do I give a shit what people think of my naked body? Take pictures for all I care._

Thranduil snorted in laughter as he recalled his memories from University. He folded the paper back up, tucking it into a box, deciding not to throw it away after all. The feelings of nostalgia prevented him from chucking the tattered piece of paper. It meant too much to him.

The next hour was spent reminiscing rather than actually getting any packing done. Thranduil found one of his old anatomy books. Tucked away between the pages was a sketch of him from that life drawing class he modeled for. He looked at it fondly, swallowing the lump in his throat as he flipped it over. Scrawled upon the back of it in faded black pen was Emilia’s handwriting. It read, _‘most beautiful specimen I’ve ever had the pleasure of drawing’_.

He didn’t get any packing done after that.

He went through his wife’s things – all the stuff he never had the heart to throw out or donate. Their wedding rings, her jewelry, some of her clothes, a bottle of her favourite perfume… He’d kept it all in a plastic storage bin in the back of his closet.

Beside the box of Emilia’s things was a large bag – the kind of bag hockey players lugged their equipment around in. Thranduil snorted when he saw it. It had been a very long time since he’d had the opportunity to look through it. Galion would’ve flipped his shit and the slut accusations would’ve been taken to a whole new level. He fetched the sex toy Hal gave him – the prostate massager – and took it out of the gift bag it was still in. Then, he unzipped the large bag and put Hal’s gift in there with the plethora of other ‘adult toys’ he owned. Most of them were from Hal. Some of them he bought all on his own.

His lips twisted into a perverse grin as he pulled out a leather collar. He examined it for a moment, giving a little tug to the thick silver ring on the front where a leash was meant to be attached. Without further thought, Thranduil put it on, fastening the buckle securely around his neck. When was the last time he wore this thing? Probably a few years ago when he dated Jeremy. Ah, yes, Jeremy. Those memories were bittersweet. His relationship with Jeremy hadn’t been very meaningful or deep, but they’d had fun together and Thranduil was never judged for the things he enjoyed.

As he removed the collar and placed it back in the bag, he wondered how Bard would react to his kinks. Thranduil’s kink radar was usually pretty strong. Generally, he was able to detect whether or not someone was into these sorts of things. But, Bard… well, Bard was a mystery.

“Ada?” Legolas’s voice jolted Thranduil back to reality, and he scrambled to zip up the bag and shove it back into the depths of his closet.

“Yes, leaf?” Thranduil said, turning around just as his son entered the closet.

“You’ve been in here for hours,” Legolas griped. “What’re you doing?”

“Still packing. Or trying to, at least. I got a bit distracted.” Thranduil picked up the anatomy book from the floor, making sure the nude drawing of him was hidden between the pages and out of sight.

“I’m bored. I packed a lot of my toys, and put aside the ones I want to donate.”

“Good, good. We can take them over to the Salvation Army tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“Okay,” Legolas nodded. “I like going there with you.”

“Oh,” Thranduil said, recalling his therapy appointment tomorrow. “I have an appointment tomorrow morning at nine, so you’ll have to come with me and hang out in the waiting room. Then we can go donate stuff.”

“Aw, really? I have to wait on you in the waiting room? It’s gonna take forever!”

“Only an hour, leaf. You can play on the iPad, okay?”

“Fine,” Legolas sighed.

“And we have to go see the real estate agent again to finalize all the legal stuff with the house. Then we can get the keys and go for a visit.”

Legolas perked up at this. “We’ll be able to start moving stuff in?”

“Yup. It’ll be ours, so we can take our stuff over bit by bit. We’ll have to hire a moving service or something to transport all the furniture. But we can take all the small things over.”

Upon hearing this, Legolas once again became inspired to pack up more of his stuff. It seemed he was just as eager to move into their new house as Thranduil was.

So, while Legolas was in his room, Thranduil attempted to tackle his shoes. Who actually needed this many pairs of shoes? When had he become so damned materialistic? Thranduil shook his head at himself as he sorted through all the shoes he owned. Most of these shoes he hadn’t worn in years. It was difficult to part with them though. But he managed to convince himself to donate at least half of them. The old ratty Uggs went into the trash, despite all the memories they held.

Thranduil could live in the same outfit for a week, so why the hell did he own so much clothing and shoes? And all this fucking skimpy lingerie! Two suitcases would still not be enough to hold all the pairs of lacy panties he owned. He chalked it up to his impulsive online shopping. Whenever he felt like shit, he’d order something online. He didn’t need it – he never _needed_ it – but it made him feel better, if only for the moment.

By the time he deemed his task complete, he had over seven large plastic storage bins full of clothes and shoes. And at least three full garbage bags of items he wanted to donate.

It was late, so Thranduil ushered Legolas into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Once Legolas was tucked in, Thranduil went downstairs to the kitchen where he’d left his mobile. He hadn’t checked it in hours and hoped there’d be a missed call, or a few text messages from Bard. But when the screen illuminated, there was nothing.

His heart sunk.

Why hadn’t Bard contacted him today?

_Because all you are is a fucking loser and no one wants to talk to you._

Thranduil groaned. He didn’t want to deal with his fucking negative thoughts – but there they were, yelling at him and making him feel like shit. God, he’d spent all of his childhood being invalidated and criticized, and even now that he had escaped his father, it seemed he would never escape his thoughts. All those years of being told he wasn’t enough, that something was wrong with him, well, fuck – now he believed it. It had been ingrained in his psyche from the moment he was born. What the fuck else was he supposed to believe?

He went outside for a cigarette, savoring the sting of the cold wind upon his face. Deep down, he knew how much Bard cared about him, so he tried not to think about why Bard hadn’t texted or called him today. Maybe Bard was just busy, maybe it had nothing to do with Thranduil. But no matter how much he told himself that, it was hard to believe when his thoughts kept telling him that he just wasn’t good enough and no one would ever love him.

Thank god he was going to therapy tomorrow.

***

Sunday was hell.

Sure, Bard only worked for six hours, but those six hours felt more like six years – of pure torture. Once again he got yelled at more times that he could remember – and for the stupidest reasons.

People were rude as shit to him, treating him like he wasn’t even human, like he was beneath them because it was his job to fix their cars.

_Fucking learn to fix it yourself then, you fucking douchebags._ That thought played on repeat in Bard’s mind as the day wore on.

His boss never worked on Sundays, so Alfrid was supervising, and that only made the day worse for Bard, as orders were spat at him like he was nothing more than a common slave. Bard wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if Alfrid pulled out a whip and starting lashing it at Bard to get him to work faster.

Bard was one nasty comment away from walking out of that fucking shithole. He swore under his breath when customers were not in earshot. He kicked his locker and slammed the break room door when he went on his lunch – which only lasted fifteen minutes instead of the usual forty-five. He was pissed and hungry – or _‘hangry’_ as Bain called it – anger intensified by hunger. A horrible combination.

The thought of Bain – of all three of his children, was what pulled Bard back to reality. He couldn’t just walk away from work, from his responsibilities. He couldn’t up and quit in a fit of rage like he wanted to. No, he had the children to think about. He needed to suffer, to make sacrifices for them. If he quit his job, they’d all be on the streets.

So, Bard took a deep breath and stuck it out, counting the minutes until it was five o’clock.

When he finally picked the children up from his parents’ house, the torture continued.

Tilda was in a bad mood, tired and grumpy. Bain didn’t speak the entire car ride home, content to just sit there with his headphones blasting, a broody expression twisting at his lips. Thankfully, Sigrid was her usual bright, cheery self. What would Bard do without her?

Supper was a quiet affair and soon after Tilda fell asleep on the sofa while watching TV. As Bard cleaned up the kitchen and washed dishes, he thought about Thranduil. He badly wanted to call his boyfriend, desperate for a distraction from his stressful day, but just as he was about to head up the stairs to his room, Bain stopped him. Bard hadn’t even gotten a chance to change out of his work clothes yet. But that didn’t matter right now. Something was clearly on his son’s mind, something that was bothering him and he couldn’t keep in any longer.

“That bitch texted me today,” Bain grumbled, an edge to his voice despite how quietly he spoke.

“What?” Bard asked, turning to give Bain his full attention.

“She even tried to call Sig, too.”

“And she called Nan’s house,” Sigrid said. “But obviously, we didn’t answer.”

Bard swallowed, his brows furrowing together. “Your mother?”

“Yeah, that bitch!” Bain spat. “Not much of a mother,” he tacked on with a huff.

“Language, Bain,” Bard warned out of habit. Truth be told, he didn’t care if Bain called Madison a bitch or not. It was the truth, after all.

“Da! She was hating on you in her texts! I thought she moved away and didn’t want anything to do with us, but now she’s trying to talk to us. I don’t get it.”

“I don’t think she wants to talk _to_ us,” Sigrid piped up, wringing her hands together. “She wants to talk _at_ us, use us as a sounding board to rant to.”

Bard paced around, tugging his hands through his hair.

“We should call her back and tell her to fuck off,” Bain said, hot on Bard’s heels.

“No,” was all Bard could say.

He felt sick – like he was going to throw up. His heart was in his throat and he couldn’t swallow it back down. After the fucking shit day he’d had at work, this was not what he needed right now. He just wanted to relax and talk to Thranduil, not deal with Madison’s petty bullshit. Wasn’t she happy with her new boyfriend? Isn’t this exactly what she wanted, to have nothing to do with any of them anymore? It seemed she couldn’t resist bad-mouthing Bard to the children – _still._

 “Why don’t we just call her?” Bain protested, the heat in his voice rising. “Put her on speakerphone and blast her! All of us! How dare she talk shit about Da like that? He never treated her badly. She was always such a bitch to him…and to the rest of us, too. What kind of a person just walks out on their children? And then tries to play mind games and manipulate us into believing it’s Da’s fault?! Well, fuck that! I’m not falling for her bullshit. I’m smarter than that!”

“I think the best course of action is to just block her number,” Bard cut in. “Don’t give her a reaction. That’s what she wants.”

“Yeah, Da’s right,” Sigrid said. “We need to take back the power! She can’t manipulate us into believing her lies. I think she’s so unstable that she actually believes that her lies are the truth. She doesn’t even know she’s lying.”

“She’s mentally ill,” Bain attested, nodding his head firmly. “She needs to be taken away to the home!”

“Yeah,” Sigrid agreed. “And not just the mental ward in the hospital. She needs to go to the mothership.”

“The asylum!” Bain cackled.

The situation only continued to escalate. Bain was upset that he was the only one who wanted to contact Madison. Bard tried to explain how doing so would not improve anything; it would only make matters worse. But Bain held fast to the belief that they were weak by not voicing their opinions to her. Sigrid understood that any kind of a response would only help to give more power to Madison, something she could hold over their heads. Ignoring was the best option, the most sensible. But, Bain – in his rage – could not see the sense in that. It took a few hours for Bard to diffuse the situation. He’d taken Tilda up to bed, and then went back to the living room to continue his conversation with Bain and Sigrid. They decided to block her number – on all their phones, so she could have no way to contact them. This would take away her ability to gain control over them and attempt to manipulate the children into believing her lies.

By the time Bain and Sigrid headed up to bed, it was past midnight. Bard showered quickly and rushed to bed. If he wanted to survive at work tomorrow he would need more than just six hours of sleep. But seeing as six hours was all he was going to get, he had to make the most of it and not stay up a moment longer. It took a while for his mind to slow and his worries to dissipate, and he still desperately wanted to talk to Thranduil. But much to his dismay, that would have to wait until tomorrow.

At least it was one thing for Bard to look forward to.

 

***

Fucking therapy.

Thranduil didn’t know how to feel upon leaving the office. He was a bit shaken – fast heart rate, sweaty palms, weak knees – the works. But he’d gotten through it; he survived. And to be honest, it felt like a weight off his shoulders to actually talk about his problems instead of suppressing everything until the end of eternity.

Being the first appointment, it was more of a ‘get to know me’ sort of thing. Thranduil had to talk about his childhood, his past – the events that shaped him, and of course, his Borderline Personality Disorder diagnosis – his symptoms, how he dealt with difficult situations, the aspects of his behavior that he would like to change.

He briefly brought up the shit show with Galion. He didn’t dare use the ‘R’ word, though – it made him sick to even think about it. His voice had remained flat, a false portrayal of the calm he wished he’d felt. He merely mentioned the incident, downplaying its significance greatly. He didn’t lie about it, but he also didn’t tell the full truth either. Yes, Galion had been violent towards him, but he failed to mention just how far that violence had gone, and in the aftermath, how deeply it affected Thranduil.

He even mentioned Bard. And thankfully, early this morning Bard had sent him a text. Thranduil felt stupid for even thinking that Bard hadn’t wanted to talk to him. He was a father and had other things to worry about. With the therapist, Thranduil brought up his worries of co-dependence, how he clung to people and could easily become obsessed with them and then push them away in order to protect himself. Abandonment was his deepest fear, and subconsciously, he would do anything to save himself from the pain of being left behind, even if it meant putting up a wall and isolating himself. He believed that everyone would leave him eventually – because it was true, they did. He still harbored fears that Hal would one day get fed up with his shit and leave him, too. So, to save himself from the hurt, he had a tendency to push people away; hurt them before they could hurt him. He’d done it with so many people in the past – lovers and friends. He didn’t want to repeat this behavior with Bard. It was something he wanted to work on in his therapy sessions. If he could learn to love himself unconditionally, he wouldn’t feel the need to cling to others and rely on them to provide him with fulfillment and happiness.

The therapist gave him homework. Since Thranduil had always liked writing about his thoughts in the past, she suggested that he keep a mood journal, to track his emotions and what sort of events were his main triggers. That was something he could do. So he decided that every night before bed he would write a bit about his day.

After the appointment, he and Legolas dropped off their donations at the Salvation Army and then met with the real estate agent. They were both overjoyed to get the key to the house. On a whim, they made a stop at the house, spending more time there than planned. Legolas had a good time exploring and Thranduil was thrilled to watch his son have fun. Legolas was particularly fascinated by the elevator, and he vowed never to take the stairs again. This declaration made Thranduil laugh and he wondered if Legolas would actually use the elevator once they moved in.

The rest of the day was spent painting for Mrs. Johnson. The pastel colors he used helped lift his mood, and after a few hours of slathering, splattering and scraping paint upon the large canvas, he took a picture of his progress to send to Mrs. Johnson.

It felt good to be productive, and it felt even better to share his day with Bard when they spoke on the phone that evening. They talked of everything and of nothing at all, spending over two hours on the phone with one another. By midnight, Bard had to go to bed as he had work in the morning. Thranduil continued painting until almost three in the morning and when he finally went to bed, he passed out immediately, completely forgetting to write anything in his mood journal.

 

***

The next few days were better for Bard. He didn’t let the shit at work affect him the way it had on the weekend. His sense of purpose had been renewed; he did what he had to for his children. It was the best he could do with the options he was given, so he tried not to be hard on himself. Bard was always so kind and gentle to others, but rarely showed the same compassion to himself. He recognized this, and realized that his life may improve if he stopped constantly putting himself down. It was when he was talking to Thranduil on Tuesday night that he became aware of this. He treated Thranduil so well because he cared about him, and Thranduil made a comment about how he should treat himself with the same love and respect, instead of doubting himself so much. It was hard to do, not criticize himself – he’d lived with someone who put him down for so many years that it had rubbed off on him and now he treated himself poorly as a result. That night he made a pact with himself. He would try to stop being so hard on himself; he would ease up and give himself a break every now and then. He was doing his best with the resources he had, and that had to be enough.

The week went by without further issue concerning Madison. Thankfully, blocking her number seemed like the appropriate course of action to take. The children were in better spirits – especially Bain, who had been the most affected by his mother’s unexpected text messages. They spent Monday to Thursday at their grandparents’, and it seemed Madison had taken the hint and hadn’t tried to contact them there, either.

Bard chatted with Thranduil on the phone each night, and now that it was Thursday, he was as eager as ever to see Thranduil in person again. Sure, they’d sent each other stupid pictures of what they’d been up to during the day, but it never quite seemed to ebb the longing Bard felt in his heart. He wanted to hold Thranduil in his arms, whisper softly into that silky hair, cuddle with him on the sofa while doing nothing but listen to the sound of Thranduil’s breath against his neck while they exchanged lazy kisses.

He sent a quick text to Thranduil before leaving his house. Thranduil reminded him to bring his hard drive that contained his photography. He also brought his new lomo camera, excited to finally get the chance to use it.

***

Thranduil hadn’t mentioned a word to Bard about his photograph that he sold to Mrs. Johnson. He wanted so badly to tell Bard the good news, to see Bard’s eyes light up in response. How would Bard feel about Thranduil taking it upon himself to sell one of his photos? He hoped Bard would be happy about it. He hoped it would give Bard the confidence he needed to pursue his dream of working full time as a photographer.

The doorbell rang and Thranduil rushed to the door, feeling his pocket to make sure the cheque from Mrs. Johnson was there. He wanted to give it to Bard immediately. He was aware of how shitty Bard’s week at work had been and he figured presenting the cheque to Bard right away would help boost his spirits.

“Hey!” Thranduil greeted, opening the door to let Bard in out of the cold. Bard looked adorable wrapped up in his scarf, his cheeks dusted with a rosy red blush.

“Hey, doll. It’s so good to see you,” Bard said, stepping inside and pulling Thranduil in for a tight hug.

Being so close to Bard was enchanting; it made Thranduil’s head spin and his heart pound erratically. He held Bard tightly, a small smirk on his lips. Should they order their New Year’s Eve feast first, or should Thranduil give Bard the cheque?

“It’s so good to see you, babe,” Thranduil breathed into Bard’s neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“I have something for you,” Thranduil announced. He couldn’t help himself.

“You have something for me?” Bard quirked a brow when they eased out of the hug. Thranduil quickly hung Bard’s coat and beckoned him into the living room.

“Yes,” he exclaimed, excitement causing his voice to raise an octave. “I have something for you, and I think you’ll like it!”

“What is it?” Bard asked as he took a seat on the sofa.

Thranduil didn’t sit; he paced back and forth, clasping his hands together. “Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I sort of…um, sold one of your photos…”

“You what? Really? How? To who?” Bard’s expression was pure shock, like he couldn’t fathom what he was hearing.

“I went to see Mrs. Johnson, and I showed her the photos you sent me last weekend, and she wanted to buy one of them. So I hope you don’t mind that I took the initiative to sell it.”

“She actually bought it? No way,” Bard gaped, stunned.

“Yeah, she bought the oil spill one. She loved the colours. So I told her I could get it sized and framed for her. Oh, and she wants you to sign the back of it, so we’ll have to do that sometime this weekend possibly…” Thranduil rambled on, his anticipation getting the better of him.

“I can’t believe it. How much did you sell it for?” Bard finally asked, his brow creasing.

“How much do you think? How much would you sell it for?” Thranduil questioned, grinning widely.

“I have no idea. I have no basis for comparison so I don’t know what it’d go for...”

“If you were to sell it yourself, how would you price it?”

“Shit, I dunno. Maybe, like, fifty dollars? Or is that too much?”

“Fifty doll hairs, isn’t a lot of doll hairs,” Thranduil teased. “Dolls have more hairs than that.”

“Just tell me, Thran,” Bard chuckled. “The anticipation is killing me.”

“Okay,” Thranduil smirked and dug into his pocket, pulling out the cheque and slowly handing it to Bard.

Bard’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened like saucers, lighting up as bright as the sun. He stared at the cheque for a few moments and then looked up at Thranduil, then back to the cheque.

“No way. No way! Are you fucking kidding me?!” Bard exclaimed.

Thranduil took that as a good sign, a _very_ good sign.

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that I disappeared for over two months!  
> Life fucking sucks sometimes, but here I am with the next chapter! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Trigger warning for death (not too graphic, I don't think) and mentions of suicide.
> 
> (yay for over 300k words!)

How long had Bard sat there on Thranduil’s sofa staring at the cheque in his hands, unblinking and completely stunned?

It had to have been a good five minutes.

Who in their right mind would pay this amount of money for one of Bard’s amateur photographs? This had to be a joke. It couldn’t possibly be real.

Bard shook his head and looked up at Thranduil, who was grinning like a child in a candy shop. Thranduil’s smile was radiant, lighting up the whole room.

“Tell me this is a joke,” Bard stuttered.

Thranduil’s grin widened, reaching his eyes. “If I tell you that, it would be a lie. So, no, it’s not a joke.”

“But…this is more money than I sometimes make in one pay cheque…” Bard continued to stammer, still convinced he was in a dream.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Thranduil said.

“Well, yeah. It’s fucking amazing – unbelievably amazing. I think I’m dreaming.”

Thranduil approached, leaning forward and gave a light pinch to Bard’s arm. “Are you still dreaming, or should I pinch you harder?”

Bard chuckled, but he continued to stare at the number Mrs. Johnson had written on the cheque in her scrawling cursive.

_One thousand nine-hundred ninety-five_

The number stared back at him, his throat thick with disbelief. His chest felt heavier with each breath he took.

“I always give Mrs. Johnson a discount, though. You could’ve gotten more, but I didn’t want to push my luck,” Thranduil was saying, but Bard still did not look up.

He was lost in his own thoughts - thoughts of how with this one cheque, he could pay off his Christmas debt and next month’s bills. The relief hit him like a tidal wave, crashing through every bone in his body, until all he could feel was pure, unadulterated joy. If one photograph could bring him this amount of money, was it possible that he could sell more? Would anyone other than one of Thranduil’s clients be interested? Or was this a one-time thing? How would he even go about selling more? The thoughts were piling up faster than he was able to acknowledge them, so he shook his head, attempting to bring himself back to the present.

“Are you okay, babe?” Thranduil said, now sitting on the sofa beside Bard, those graceful fingers kneading at Bard’s knee.

“I just – I can’t believe this,” Bard said, unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer. He let them all spill out. “Do you have any idea how much this money will help me? I can pay for the children’s Christmas presents now. I can pay next month’s bills and not have to worry about whether or not I’ll be able to scrounge up enough for groceries. God, Thran,” Bard exclaimed, wrapping Thranduil into a tight embrace. “This helps so much. I can’t thank you enough. You have done so much for me.”

Thranduil’s arms tightened around Bard’s waist and he pressed a tender kiss to Bard’s forehead. “You deserve it, you know. You’re extremely talented and you have so much potential. I just figured you needed a little push, to see that your work is good enough to sell.”

“Thank you,” Bard breathed into Thranduil’s hair. The smell of bergamot and vetiver was enough to intoxicate him. He inhaled the scent for a few long moments until Thranduil eased away and cupped Bard’s face in his hands.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled, pressing a soft kiss on Bard’s lips, which Bard was more than happy to return with fervor. “You should deposit it soon, or Mrs. Johnson will wonder why you haven’t accepted her payment.”

Bard hummed and pressed another kiss to Thranduil’s jaw. “I will, doll.”

“And on Sunday when stores are open again, I’m gonna go look at frames. You should come along if you’d like.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, and I’ll need the actual file of the photo so I can take it to the printing place.”

“I brought my hard drive with all my photos,” Bard said, pulling the small device from his pants pocket.

“Perfect. So you can show me all your work.” Thranduil paused for a moment, as if contemplating something. Finally, he said, “I have an idea.”

“What kind of idea?” Bard asked, trying to read Thranduil’s expression. What sort of idea did he have now? He’d already done so much. Bard couldn’t imagine what else he had planned.

“Well, I’m not sure how you’d feel about it. But you do know how artists get recognized, right?”

“By selling stuff?”

“Yes, but how will you sell your work if no one knows about it?”

“I’d have to show it?”

“An exhibition,” Thranduil stated, smiling.

“And how does one go about doing that?” Bard asked. He had no idea how some unknown person such as himself would be able to hold an exhibition. No one would show up. “I’m just….nobody.”

“Pish posh, as Hal would say.” Thranduil waved a hand and stood up, pacing around again. It seemed he always had to be in motion when he was either excited, or had thoughts to share. Bard smiled at this. It was adorable how animated Thranduil was.

“What about cost? Wouldn’t I have to rent a space in a gallery or something? And then pay for all the other stuff? I haven’t the slightest clue what all the expenses would be. And then I’d be in the hole again.”

“Babe,” Thranduil gave Bard a look. “Just hear me out.”

“Okay, sorry. I’m just trying to make sense of all this.” Bard tried to still his mind and listen to Thranduil. He clearly knew what he was talking about. He could teach Bard a thing or two about how to sell his work. 

“So, sure, it’s difficult to get people to come to a show when you’re unknown. But,” Thranduil grinned, “what if you knew someone who could help? What if you had connections?”

“Doll,” Bard began to protest. He didn’t want Thranduil to have to take on such a project.

Thranduil shushed him and continued. “You have me. And I know how these things work. So yes, it might not be best to start off with a solo show. But what about a collaboration?”

“You mean collaborate with other artists?” Bard said, still uncomfortable grouping himself in the category of ‘artist’. He wasn’t an artist; he just had a hobby he enjoyed doing. If he was good at it, did that make him an artist?

“Yes, collaborate with other artists.”

“I don’t know any artists to collaborate with, though.”

Thranduil made a scoffing sound. “What am I?”

“Wait… You mean….with you?”

“Yes, silly! I’d like you to display your photos at one of my shows. That would be the best way to get people to see your work.”

“Do a show with you?” Bard gaped. “But you’re….you. And I’m –”

Thranduil cut Bard off. “You’re you, and you’re talented, and I would like people to recognize your talent and gain interest in your work. So, I’d like us to do a show together. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy,” Bard laughed. He couldn’t believe what Thranduil was asking him.

“Yes, I agree, but we’re not debating my sanity right now,” Thranduil grinned. “So…yes or no? Does an exhibition interest you?”

“Yes, but –”

“No buts. We can figure out the details later. All I want to know is whether or not you want to do it.”

“I do. Yes, I’d love to do it!” Bard smiled widely. The prospect of showing his work alongside Thranduil’s gave him a rush of adrenaline. He shot up from the sofa and walked around, his excitement unable to be contained.

“Good!”

“You’re sure about this? You want us to show our stuff together? Even though yours is top quality and mine is just amateur stuff?”

“It won’t be amateur stuff for long,” Thranduil said, taking Bard’s hands and squeezing them tightly in his own.

“Doll – I am speechless.”

Thranduil chuckled before capturing Bard’s lips in a tender kiss. “So, I’ll have to see all your photos.”

“How do we decide which ones to show? Is there a theme? They should complement the paintings you’re showing, right?”

Thranduil laughed and nodded. “Yes, there’s a theme and yes, they should complement what I’m showing. So we’ll look through what you have and you can always take more photos. I’m still working on things for the show, so we can come up with ideas together.”

“What’s the theme?”

“Rebirth. I wanted to do the show in the spring, and rebirth is the theme that I thought would fit the best.”

“Oooh, rebirth. I like that. There’s a lot we could do with that idea,” Bard mused, already thinking of ideas for photos he could take.

“So, why don’t you show me your photos?”

“Okay,” Bard agreed, handing the USB to Thranduil. “You can plug it into your laptop.”

“Or the TV,” Thranduil said. “I have an Xbox and I think there’s a thing to plug it in there. I’m not sure.”

Bard grinned, imagining Thranduil playing video games. “You play video games?”

Thranduil snorted. “Not really. Legolas has some games, but I used to like playing Grand Theft Auto.” He laughed and shook his head, his pretty blond hair flying about and settling over his shoulders. “The only thing I ever did was go around and shoot people and run them over with my car. And,” Thranduil laughed again, “I liked to get the helicopter and go up really high and then jump out.”

Bard laughed, recalling all the silly things Bain liked to do in those types of video games.

Thranduil turned the Xbox on, but looked over at Bard with a puzzled expression. “I’m not sure how to get the pictures to work.”

“Just plug it in, doll,” Bard said, making his way over to the video game console. “Here, I can figure it out.”

“Thanks, baby. I’m horrible with technology.”

The time they spent looking at Bard’s photos was nerve-wracking. Would Thranduil like them? Were they good enough? Bard could feel his cheeks ablaze and his heart beating in a strange, irregular rhythm. And although Thranduil praised his photographs several times, it was still hard to believe that they were as good as Thranduil said they were. Maybe Bard just needed more opinions. For so long, the only person who ever gave their opinion of Bard’s work was Madison. And she could be downright cruel. Bard had come to expect the same reaction from everyone, that no one would see the artistic vision behind his photos. But Thranduil did, and that left Bard feeling more validated than he ever had in his life.

Maybe his hobby was worth something after all.

Thranduil picked out some photos that he thought would be good to show in their exhibition, and made suggestions about what kind of frames to use that would enhance the beauty of each photograph.

“This picture here is fucking amazing. It is perfect for the rebirth theme,” Thranduil said. He spoke about a photo Bard had taken at the waste management centre, or what Bard called the ‘dump’, where all old furniture went to die. The photo was of a small flower in the early sprouting stages, growing up and out of what was quite literally garbage.

Bard chuckled, his cheeks heating up again. “I wouldn’t call it fucking amazing, but I do like it. And you’re right; it really does fit the theme – the growth of something beautiful from something ugly.”

With a little shake of his head, Thranduil pushed Bard backwards into the cushions on the sofa. He clicked his tongue before pressing a soft kiss to Bard’s jaw. “What am I going to do with you?” Thranduil asked as Bard wound his fingers into all that silken hair, pulling Thranduil closer.

“Whatever you want,” Bard breathed into Thranduil’s ear, littering kisses down the smooth pale column of Thranduil’s neck. How was it that such a beautiful man allowed Bard to kiss him like this?

Thranduil hummed, a warm, buttery sound. “I want you to know how wonderful you are.” Soft lips pressed against Bard’s, drawing an unexpected moan from the back of Bard’s throat.

God, did Thranduil have any idea how badly Bard wanted him, how much will power it took for Bard to resist him? All it took to get Bard aroused was a kiss. Sure, Bard had been deprived of the touch of another human being for a very long time, but what he felt at this moment was something he had never felt before. He was desperate.

“My sweetest treasure,” Thranduil cooed, capturing Bard’s lips in a deep kiss. Bard melted into the kiss as he slowly insinuated his hands beneath the hem of Thranduil’s shirt.

“Mmm, doll,” Bard murmured against Thranduil’s lips.

“Ew, get a room!” The sound of Legolas’s voice caused Bard to jolt and push Thranduil off him. If he thought his cheeks had been red while showing his photos to Thranduil earlier, he could only imagine how red they were now. He was so fucking embarrassed. Never in his life had a child seen him in the midst of kissing, or making out, or whatever the hell was going on between him and Thranduil just now. He ran a hand over his face, not ready to make eye contact with Legolas yet, or even utter a word. But Thranduil seemed unfazed. He laughed, smoothing down his shirt with his hands.

“Hi, leaf,” Thranduil said, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You two are gross. There’s a hotel not far from here, you know.” Legolas made a show of rolling his eyes as dramatically as possible, but didn’t shy away from the adults. Instead, he approached, grinning at Bard.

“Oh, my child. You are such a drama queen,” Thranduil laughed, pulling on the end of Legolas’s ponytail.

“Hey, Bard,” Legolas finally said, choosing to ignore his father by addressing Bard instead. The boy had a sheepish look on his face. Bard figured the expression on his own face was somewhat similar. Being caught making out with his boyfriend, by his boyfriend’s son wasn’t exactly something Bard ever thought would happen.

“Hey, Legs,” Bard said at last, rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn’t tell if the situation was awkward for everyone or only for him. Thranduil seemed fine. Legolas seemed fine. Maybe it was only him. He tried to relax.

“Is this your camera?” Legolas asked, pointing to the camera on the coffee table.

“Yeah, that’s my camera. Do you want to look at it?” Thank the gods for the distraction!

“Can I?” Legolas got closer and picked up the camera.

“You sure can,” Bard said. Thankfully, he’d cleared off all the pictures he’d taken of Thranduil. They were now on Thranduil’s laptop, so there was nothing to worry about.

“Be careful with it, leaf,” Thranduil said. “Put the strap around your neck. You don’t want to drop it.”

“I won’t drop it, Ada,” Legolas rolled his eyes, but obeyed Thranduil and secured the strap around his neck.

The camera looked huge in Legolas’s hands, and he grinned triumphantly when he turned the device on.

Bard glanced at Thranduil with a smile and then beckoned with a hand for Legolas to come closer. “Want me to show you how to use it?”

“Yeah! Can I take pictures?” Legolas asked, approaching and leaning against the sofa beside Bard.

“Of course,” Bard agreed. Then he showed Legolas how the functions worked, how to zoom in and zoom back out, how to switch modes so he could look at the pictures.

“So I just press the shutter button and it will take a picture? And then this button to see the pictures, right?”

“Yup, you got it,” Bard nodded.

“Okay!” Legolas chuckled and backed up, pointing the camera at Bard and Thranduil on the sofa. Thranduil covered his face, drawing a groan from his son. “Ada, no! I want to get a picture of you and Bard!”

“Fine, fine,” Thranduil said, scooting closer to Bard and putting his arm around Bard’s waist.

They posed for a few pictures, some serious and some goofy. Thranduil started making faces, sticking his tongue out to make his son laugh. Legolas eventually let them be and went on to take photos of the Christmas tree and the fireplace, and then sat on the floor to look through the pictures.

Per Legolas’s request, Thranduil ordered Greek food for their supper. Bard couldn’t remember the last time he ate real, authentic Greek food. He wasn’t sure if the stuff at the mall food court counted. Together, they all piled into Bard’s truck to go pick up the food from the restaurant. The chore felt so domestic and natural that Bard couldn’t stop smiling the entire drive there and back.

When they got back to the house, they didn’t eat at the kitchen table, or the dining room table. Rather, Thranduil set them up in the sitting room and lit a fire in the fireplace.

“Ada hates eating at the table,” Legolas commented.

“Eating at the table is such a formal activity,” Thranduil justified, taking a seat on the sofa beside Bard. “I like to be comfortable when I eat.” He sat cross-legged and set his plate on his lap before taking a bite of his salad.

“You certainly look comfortable,” Bard chuckled, observing the way Thranduil lounged, leaning back into the sofa cushions.

“Why isn’t Uncle Hal with us tonight?” Legolas asked. “It’s New Year’s Eve, he should be here.”

“Yeah,” Bard said between a mouthful of his amazingly delicious gyro.  He stopped for a breath, realizing that he probably looked like a ravenous animal with the way he was eating. “Where is Hal tonight?”

Thranduil waved a hand and reached for his box of orange juice. Bard thought it was adorable how Thranduil drank from a juice box instead of using a glass. “He went to the club,” Thranduil snorted out a laugh.

“The club?!” Legolas all but howled. “What’s he doing at the club?”

“He’s trying to find a date, I assume,” Thranduil reasoned. “And he wanted to let us have some time alone, which I am grateful for.” He shot a knowing smile at Bard.

“Time alone to do what?” Legolas made a face, causing Bard to blush just as fiercely as he had earlier when Legolas caught him and Thranduil making out.

“Just, y’know, to hang out,” Thranduil said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re not going to get drunk like you did last year and throw up in the sink, are you?”

“I’m not drinking at all, leaf.” He held up his juice box. “Only juice.”

As they ate, Legolas expressed his enthusiasm about seeing Tilda again. Bard told him that Tilda was just as eager to see him again, too, and that they would have to plan another sleepover. As Legolas spoke animatedly about all the fun activities he had planned for his next play date with Tilda, Thranduil exchanged a fond grin with Bard, squeezing Bard’s knee. He seemed happy and at ease, unafraid to let down his walls and be himself. Maybe Bard was only imagining it, but it appeared as if the real Thranduil was finally emerging again, the Thranduil he’d met at the pub a little over a month ago. And if Bard was mistaken, then Thranduil was doing a superb job of keeping up the façade.

Bard sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case.

After Legolas finished his food and made his grand exit – he wanted to go play The Sims upstairs on his computer – Bard and Thranduil found themselves in the kitchen cleaning up.

Bard noticed several plastic bins and cardboard boxes piled neatly against the wall. Thranduil must be packing up to get ready for the move into his new house.

“You’ve been busy packing, huh?” Bard asked as he tossed their paper plates into the recycling.

“Yup,” Thranduil nodded, rinsing cutlery and glasses in the sink. “That’s why we ate on paper plates. All the others are packed.”

“How’s the rest of the packing going?”

Thranduil shrugged. “It’s coming along. I’m just slow because I get easily distracted by all the nonsense in my closet.”

“Nonsense in your closet? I could help, if you’d like…” Bard offered, coming up behind Thranduil. He rested his chin on Thranduil’s shoulder, easing both arms around Thranduil’s waist.

Thranduil hummed, a low rumble in the back of his throat. “I’ve got a shit ton of crap in my closet. You actually want to help? Once you say yes, you can’t back out.” Thranduil looked over his shoulder with a grin.

Bard grinned back and gave Thranduil a peck on the cheek. “I won’t back out, doll. Promise.”

“You’re just curious and want to see how much junk I hoard,” Thranduil snickered, easing out of Bard’s arms to dry his hands with a dish towel.

“Well, why don’t you show me?”

***

 “Fifty Shades of Grey?” Bard asked, picking up the book from the pile Thranduil set on the floor.

“Fifty Shades of Spanked Ass,” Thranduil deadpanned. Bard raised an eyebrow, drawing laughter from Thranduil. “I borrowed it from Hal and I guess I forgot to give it back. I wanted to see what all the hype was about.” He snorted and laughed again. “It was nothing special. I skimmed most of it trying to find the good parts. Boring.”

Bard chuckled, not knowing what to make of Thranduil’s comment. He looked over the other books in the pile and found what appeared to be a photo album. “Is this a photo album?” he asked, running his fingers along the spine of the book.

“Yes,” Thranduil nodded.

“It’s rare that people keep photo albums these days. Most photos are digital and stored on the computer. I like photo albums – the memories are better preserved that way, more tangible, not just lost in a folder on the computer.”

“Yeah, I agree. I love looking at old photo albums. You can look through that one if you want – I don’t think there’s anything incriminating in there,” Thranduil said, picking up the album and flipping through the pages quickly. He laughed and handed the book to Bard.

Bard grinned. “Yeah? I can look at it? You don’t mind?”

“Go for it. The pictures are very random; you should get a good laugh out of it.” Thranduil said, moving around in a blur, from the closet to his bedroom, his arms piled high with books. “Come out here,” he called to Bard from outside the closet. “Get comfy on the bed while I move out all this junk out of the closet.”

“Okay, doll,” Bard complied, heading to Thranduil’s bed, the photo album in hand. He sat down and made himself comfortable as Thranduil continued to empty the closet. “Don’t do all the work in there without me, though.”

He heard a snort from the closet, where Thranduil pushed out a large plastic storage bin with an equally large hockey bag atop it. “I’m good here, love.”

So, with a grin, Bard flipped open the photo album.

The first few pictures were of Thranduil as a child. He looked exactly like Legolas, except Thranduil’s hair wasn’t as long at that age. It was shoulder length and looked very silky and wispy. In one of the photos, he had a big smile, some of his teeth missing, his blue eyes bright and wild – the wonderment of a child. Bard smiled back at the photograph.

Most of Thranduil’s childhood pictures were of him either in front of the piano, or with a violin in his hands. A woman with wavy blonde hair sat beside Thranduil at the piano bench, as if giving him lessons. Was this Thranduil’s mother? She looked a lot like him. The same blue eyes, the same hair colour – an absolutely stunning beauty. She appeared in a few more of the photos on the next pages as well. This had to be his mother.

There were no pictures of Thranduil’s father.

On the following pages, Thranduil was older; Bard guessed about eleven or twelve. And in these pictures, Thranduil was not alone. He was pictured with another boy of the same age - the two of them sitting in the grass, eating ice cream, sticking their tongues out at the camera. The other boy was a bit chubby, his hair cropped short, looking particularly awkward in whatever outfit he had on.

“What’s that grin about?” Thranduil asked, sliding next to Bard on the bed.

“You were an adorable kid, Thran,” Bard grinned. “Who’s this?” He pointed to the picture of the chubby boy.

Thranduil chortled. “Oh, god! That’s Hal!”

“That’s Hal?” Bard exclaimed. “No way! Doesn’t look anything like him!”

“I know, right? He was a bit chubby back then – he always liked his cupcakes – and his haircut was atrocious. Mumzie used to do it herself. I never let her get near my hair with the sheers.”

 Bard flipped back a few pages to the picture of Thranduil at the piano with the blonde woman. “Is this your mother?”

Thranduil exhaled, smiling wistfully. “Yeah, that’s her.”

“She’s beautiful. She looks like a supermodel.”

“Yeah,” Thranduil replied. “She was such a beauty.”

Bard kept flipping through the photo album until he came to a few pictures of what looked like Thranduil in his early teenage years, dressed as a goth. Beside him, Thranduil laughed.

“You were a goth back then, huh?” Bard asked, admiring the pictures, looking closer to take in all the details.

“Yup. All black, every day. They called me the _‘art freak’_.”

“Who are they?”

“All the other kids. Hal and I weren’t very popular. We didn’t have a lot of friends apart from each other. And Hal got picked on a lot because of his weight and his sexuality. His gayness had always been obvious long before he ever admitted it to anyone.”

“Is this him here? In the karate outfit?” Bard pointed to the picture.

“Yeah, that’s him. He had always been obsessed with _The Karate Kid_ , so he started taking lessons because he wanted to be ready in case any of those assholes ever tried to start a fight. They never did, but the karate still gave Hal the confidence boost he needed. And after that he really got into working out and started to lose weight, so he felt better about himself.”

Bard nodded, still staring at the pictures of Thranduil as a goth. Then he turned the page and looked at a picture which really captured his interest. “Who is this?” he asked, holding the photo album closer to his face so he could get a better look at the image.

Thranduil snorted out a laugh. “That’s me!”

“It doesn’t look anything like you.” He grinned, taking in all the details, mostly the makeup Thranduil wore. “You’re wearing makeup.”

“After my goth phase, I got very into the androgynous look. Some days I liked to wear makeup. People gave me hell for it. Even teachers. But I liked it.”

“You pulled it off very well. You actually look female. I would’ve never been able to tell the difference.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Bard took long looking at the pictures, probably boring Thranduil to death. But he couldn’t seem to look away. It was like being transported back in time, witnessing Thranduil’s life in the past, all the little events that shaped him and made him who he is today. On the floor, Thranduil sat, organizing books in piles while Bard continued looking at the photo album.

The next few pages must have been from the beginning of Thranduil’s college years. There were pictures of Thranduil and Hal, pictures of Thranduil at parties with various people and then Bard came across a picture of Thranduil sitting on an armchair with a petite blonde woman in his lap. Bard squinted, trying to make out her features in the less-than-clear photograph. Her hair was a sandy blonde colour, not as light and icy as Thranduil’s. And her eyes appeared to be blue, just as Thranduil’s were. From first glance, one could assume they were related. But Bard didn’t think that was the case. Was this Thranduil’s wife?

“What’re you squinting at?” Thranduil said, looking up at Bard. But Bard was too captivated to respond.

He flipped the page, hoping to see more of the woman and was pleasantly surprised when he saw photos of nothing but her and Thranduil. In one of the shots, she had her arms around Thranduil’s waist as he rested his chin on the top of her head. In another, she stood above him while he sat on a chair. Her arms were draped over his shoulders, the colours of their hair blending together and spilling over Thranduil’s chest. And in another photo, they were kissing. From these images alone, it was clear to see how much they loved each other. Their love radiated off each photograph.

It made Bard’s throat tighten. Was it wrong for him to look upon such moments?

“What’re you looking at, babe?” Thranduil sank down beside Bard on the bed once again. “Oh, you found the pictures of Emilia.”

“This is her?” Bard asked, his voice suddenly sounding very meek.

Bard saw Thranduil nod out of the corner of his eye. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off the photos. There was a story they were trying to tell him, he just had to look deeper and piece it all together.

“How did you two meet?” Bard blurted, unable to stop his curiosity.

“In college,” Thranduil said, as if that was answer enough.

“Were you in the same program? Did you have classes together?”

“Remember that life drawing class I told you I posed for? Well, that’s how we met. She was in that class.”

“Oh, yeah? So she was an artist, too?”

“Yup. She saw me naked before we even met,” Thranduil laughed. “Didn’t leave anything to the imagination. I still have some of the sketches from that class, you know.”

“The ones of you naked?” Bard’s eyes widened.

“You want to see them, don’t you?” Thranduil snickered and slid off the bed.

“Only if you want to show me,” Bard said. But he did want to see them. He’d heard so much about Thranduil and his nude modeling; he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see the sketches.

Thranduil nodded and opened up a plastic storage bin and dug around inside until he found what he was looking for. “Prepare yourself for this,” he laughed, then handed a few pieces of sketch paper to Bard.

Bard grinned widely as his eyes roved over the image he held in his hands. The first drawing he gazed upon was of Thranduil with his head down, both arms on the back of a chair, or sofa – which one, it wasn’t clear – completely nude and oh, so beautiful. It was done in charcoal, giving the drawing a soft, hazy quality. With Thranduil’s hair covering his face, Bard wondered what his expression looked like. He turned to the next drawing, which, to his delight showed Thranduil’s face. It was just a normal pose, standing straight on with a hand on his hip, but Thranduil could apparently make anything look beautiful. Bard probably stared at that one a little too long. And god damn, his eyes kept trailing back to Thranduil’s crotch no matter how much he tried to redirect his eyes. The drawing after that was more artsy – the light was dimmer, so it cast shadows upon Thranduil’s body, highlighting his smooth, sculpted muscles. It was a profile view. Thranduil’s head was bent and he held onto the back of his head with both hands. Long tendrils of hair hung down so low, the ends grazed his slightly bent knee. In the final drawing, Thranduil lounged in an armchair. His head was tilted to the left, his arms draped over the armrests, his hands hanging delicately over the edge. Bard couldn’t stop staring at those hands. There was such attention to detail that the elegance of Thranduil’s hands had been perfectly captured and immortalized.

“These are amazing,” Bard said at last. “You’re stunning, Thran.”

“Aw, thanks, babe.” Thranduil waved a hand, which Bard caught in his own to examine.

“Such lovely hands.” He pressed a kiss to Thranduil’s knuckles before turning back to the drawings once more.

Something was written on the back of one of the sketches. Bard dragged a finger over it. _Most beautiful specimen I’ve ever had the pleasure of drawing_ , it said.

Bard chuckled. “You’ve got an admirer, doll. Says here that you’re the most beautiful specimen, and I fully agree.”

“Emilia drew all of these,” Thranduil said.

“They’re beautiful. She was extremely talented.”

“Yeah, she was. A skilled musician, too.”

“Guitar, right?” Bard supplied. He thought of the guitar he’d played a few times.

Thranduil nodded. “And piano. And she sang, too and wrote songs. She was the first person I ever busked with. I was so scared to do it, thinking that people on the street would get annoyed, but Emilia showed me how to draw in the crowd and put on a good show. She was always very good at entertaining people, a natural performer. Her dream was the get a record deal, but well, that never happened…”

Bard’s throat tightened in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Thran.”

“I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault,” Thranduil said.

Immediately Bard recalled the story Tilda had paraphrased from Legolas, of how Emilia had died. He wondered how much of what he’d heard had been errors in the retelling of the story, like a game of telephone where somewhere along the line, the story changed. Should he ask Thranduil, or would that be an invasion of his privacy?

“How would it be your fault?” Bard asked.

“Oh, you know… I was the one driving. And I wanted to leave. So it’s technically my fault.”

After taking a deep breath, Bard finally asked. “What happened anyway?”

Thranduil inhaled a sharp breath and exhale slowly. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“If you’re sure you’re okay talking about it…”

“I think you should know, or there will always be an elephant in the room,” Thranduil reasoned. “I guess I should tell you the story from the beginning…”

Bard nodded and sat back, waiting for Thranduil to begin.

***

The mindless chatter, the blatant way people stared and droned on and on about themselves for hours on end – it made Thranduil feel physically ill.

He stood beside an ornate fireplace, clutching a plastic cup filled with watered-down beer tightly between his hands. This was the one drink he was allowed to have tonight, as it was his duty to drive himself and Emilia home. Only one fucking beer – and it tasted like shit. The heat emanating from his hands only made the disgusting drink warm and even more unpalatable. But he drank it anyway. Too bad Emilia didn’t have her license; Thranduil would’ve drunk everyone under the table if she was able to drive them home. At least he didn’t feel entirely alone. Emilia wasn’t drinking either. 

As if hearing her name in Thranduil’s thoughts, Emilia glanced over at him and offered an apologetic smile. She knew how much he didn’t want to be here right now. But fuck that; he was still here, wasn’t he? He gave her a nod, not bothering to smile back. He knew he shouldn’t direct his foul mood at her, but he couldn’t help it. She was the one who wanted to come to this fucking party.

Emilia stood in a small group, surrounded by people, talking about god knows what – probably what a brilliant artist and musician she was, how talented she was and how successful she would become.

Thranduil wanted to leave.

Some random guy ended up talking to him once he snagged a free spot on the sofa. The short, chubby man sat beside him, trying to make jokes, but only managed to offend Thranduil with his heteronormative comments.

_Shut the fuck up and leave me the fuck alone._

Thranduil nodded along, faking his interest in the man’s superficial lifestyle. Who fucking cared about his top of the line barbeque or his new Ecuadorian humidor and all the cigars he’d acquired on his latest vacation? He was currently blathering on about the rim job he’d recently gotten on his shitty, little souped-up car. Thranduil was tempted to voice his desire for a rim job, but he decided that might be taking it too far. A comment like that would scar this poor, straight man for life – especially because he seemed to be under the impression that Thranduil was also straight, seeing as he was married to Emilia.

God, Thranduil had never wanted to make an inappropriate comment more than he did right now.

He decided to ask more about the rim job, laughing in a subdued manner each time he said the word. He was only managing to work himself up. His annoyance quickly turned to irritation, which morphed into anger. It was as if he was asking for it; hoping the other man would catch on and ask him what was so funny, just so Thranduil could out himself as a full-blown pansexual and make a scene. He was so pissed off that he had to endure such shit – so fuck it, if he was to put himself in a situation where he got offended, then so be it. He wouldn’t hold back his emotional reaction.

“You know,” Thranduil began. “I could really use a good rim job…one with lots of lube.” He eyed the shorter man, schooling his expression into a cold, impenetrable mask. But on the inside, in his chest, a fire had ignited. He didn’t even know why he just said what he said. Perhaps he was bored, perhaps he just wanted Emilia to notice how uncomfortable and upset he was. His heart beat violently as he struggled not to raise his voice, shout, cry.

The man was confused, his brow furrowing, a prominent crease becoming visible in the center of his forehead. “Is that supposed to be a sexual remark?” The man tried to laugh, but it came out as a choked cough.

“You know anyone who can get the job done in a fast and efficient manner? It seems you know a lot about the subject and are quite experienced.”

“What are you implying?” The man questioned, standing from the sofa and backing away from Thranduil. “I’m not gay.”

“Who says you have to be gay to enjoy getting your ass eaten?” Thranduil scoffed.

“Whatever, man. Like I said…I’m not gay. I’m a good guy, you know. I was only –”

“Typical!” Thranduil said, his voice coming out much louder than expected. “So you’re saying that because you’re such a fucking good guy, you couldn’t possibly be gay, because gay people aren’t good.”

Clearly the man knew Emilia, because within seconds he called her over, pointing his fat, sausage finger in Thranduil’s direction. His face had gone beet red and Thranduil had the urge to bark out a laugh at him, but he didn’t have a chance. The man spoke to Emilia, his finger still in Thranduil’s face. What would the man do if Thranduil bit his finger?

“You really need to put a leash on your husband,” the man said.

“Only on Sundays,” Thranduil blurted, causing Emilia to wince.

“Thran,” she glowered, her voice lowering.

“No, this asshole wants to see me leashed!”

“He was talking about rim jobs, or some shit,” the man interrupted.

Emilia’s jaw dropped and she shook her head. “Are you –”

“He started talking about it first. I just voiced my interest,” Thranduil said.

“Gay,” the man spat.

“Did I say I wanted it from a man? Thought you’d be the lucky one, huh?”

“Fucking sick!”

“Thran, stop! What the hell!”

Thank all the gods that Thranduil hadn’t had more than just one measly beer, or that fucking sausage man would have gotten punched square in the face. Thranduil laughed and finally stood from the sofa, glaring at the man. At his full height, Thranduil was almost a foot taller than the short man. It felt good to look down on someone.

“You never told me your husband was gay, Em,” sausage man said, his tone arrogant. “I mean it’s easy to tell now – look at him! – that hair is the hair of a woman.”

“So, what is it? Am I gay or am I a woman? Or perhaps I’m a lesbian?”

“Thranduil, stop it,” Emilia shouted again, trying to stop Thranduil from causing any more of a scene. People were gathering around to see what all the commotion was about.  “Let’s go,” she said, taking hold of Thranduil’s arm and pulling him towards the door.

People watched as Emilia dragged Thranduil outside. He had to laugh to stop himself from crying.

“What are you doing?” Emilia asked once they reached where their car was parked on the street.

“Nothing,” Thranduil choked the word out, biting the inside of his cheek. Now that they were alone it was next to impossible to stop the tears.

“What happened? You just lost it for nothing?”

“You know I didn’t want to come to this fucking party! But you forced me to anyway, so I have to sit there listening to that fucking jackass go on about his boring life, while you’re all happy and enjoying yourself. What’s the fucking point if I can’t get drunk?”

“Well, I’m not drinking either,” Emilia stated, running her hands through her hair. “Jesus, Thran! Why can’t you just do this one thing for me? Why is everything always about you?”

“Because I’m a fucking piece of shit,” Thranduil said, not even stopping to think about the question. The answer was ingrained in him; he’d said it so many times.

“Oh, stop. That’s what you always say, that’s your excuse every time.”

“Because it’s the fucking truth. Excuse me for being this way. I never asked to be born, you know!”

“Shush, Thran. You’re gonna get the cops called on us.”

“So what? Let them come!”

“Just, please, baby…can you try to calm down? You’re giving me anxiety.” Emilia paced around to the front of the car, her arms crossed over her chest.

Thranduil sat on the curb, clenching his fists in his lap. He tried to steady his breathing.

“I thought therapy was helping…” Emilia said softly, taking a seat beside Thranduil. She took his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. With a sigh, she lowered his hand into her lap, keeping their fingers entwined. “I’m sorry, Thran. I shouldn’t have dragged you here.”

Abruptly, Thranduil pulled his hand away from Emilia and stood up, unlocking the car doors. “Are you coming, or do you want to stay here with your lover?”

“What? My lover?”

“Fucking short-ass guy,” Thranduil snorted, throwing himself in the car. He didn’t know why he kept going on and adding fuel to the fire. Emilia had tried to diffuse the situation, but Thranduil – being the emotional disaster that he was – just kept going. He didn’t know how to back down. Why was he looking for a fight?

“Jared?” Emilia said, furrowing her brow as she got into the passenger’s seat.

“Your side-fuck,” Thranduil laughed; a hollow, toneless sound.

“What the fuck, Thran?! Now you’re just being cruel.”

“You took his side, didn’t you? Dragging me out of there like I’m some sort of disobedient animal.” Thranduil scoffed, violently shoving the key into the ignition.

“I took your fucking side,” Emilia said, finally raising her voice. “Do you not see that? I’m here with you right now, not back in there with everyone else.”

“Yeah, but you wish you were in there with everyone else. No one wants to be stuck with me.”

Emilia exhaled and shook her head before turning to face the window. “Whatever. I’m not in the mood for this shit right now. So, just drive. Take us home so I can go the fuck to bed.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Thranduil grumbled.

For a while, they sat in silence, Emilia facing the window, and Thranduil staring straight ahead at the road as he drove. His annoyance ebbed, but he still did not speak. He’d reacted so poorly, and for that he felt bad, but it was not enough to get him to apologize for his actions.

Thranduil kept his eyes on the road, but lost himself in his thoughts. They came to an intersection, the green light fixed in Thranduil’s vision as he mulled over whether or not he should break the silence.

Emilia shouted, but her voice broke off into a garbled shriek; a warning, a battle cry.

Thranduil turned his head, but a harsh impact sent the car flying and all he could do was slam on the brakes. He heard Emilia scream beside him, but there was nothing he could do now.

Fear gripped him hard, his hands locking on the steering wheel. His heart sped up; beating a mile a minute as adrenaline flooded his senses. He choked on his own breath, the wind knocked out of him as something punched him in the face. Then, in the side of the head. Everything shook.

Time slowed down… His heart continued to race… Floating… He was floating… Out of his own body… Above it all…

He could feel nothing.

What was happening?

He tried to look around, but dust or smoke or something – he wasn’t sure what – blinded him.

Then, in a blur of images, it occurred to him.

They must have crashed. But how? The light was green.

Did someone drive into them?

_Oh, god, no. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_

He couldn’t think, yet his mind raced. A million images flashed behind his eyes, but he couldn’t hold on to any of them. Couldn’t process anything.

He forced himself to glance in Emilia’s direction, squinting through the dust. His pounding heart nearly stopped.

_No, no, no, no no no no. She’s fine. She’ll be fine. Everything is fine._

His hand moved, but he couldn’t feel it, he didn’t think about it. Tried to reach out, to touch her. _Everything is okay, she’s okay_

The blood…all the blood….everywhere…

Her hair…everywhere…

Pieces of – what was that?

He groped for his seatbelt, then made a frantic attempt to reach over for Emilia, try to shake her, move her, wake her up…

He saw her face. But no – it wasn’t her face. It was… something else altogether. Something alien.

He couldn’t bear to look at the explosion next to him any longer, so he turned away.

Ambulance.

He heard an ambulance. Somewhere.

Or was it just the ringing in his ears he could hear, reverberating and bouncing around viciously in his skull?

He screamed, but he couldn’t hear it.  He couldn’t hear anything. The airbags had deafened him.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but somehow he ended up outside. He was groped and coddled, pulled away from the vehicle. He spoke to people, but it was as if someone else was performing these actions. He heard himself speak, but what came out of his mouth were not words, at least not to his ears. People continued touching him, but the sensation of being touched did not register. His eyes wandered, back to the twisted wreckage of scrap metal.

Emilia...

Where was she?

There were ambulances, stretchers, EMTs, police, bystanders…. Broken glass, blood, pieces of Emilia’s brain on the pavement…

Thranduil blocked it all out…he didn’t look around anymore…he didn’t feel…he wasn’t even himself… Nothing was real anyway… he was stuck in a dream…. A nightmare…

He stumbled, unable to control his body. And then, everything faded to black.

The next time he awoke, he was in the hospital. The only reason he knew this was because of the sterile smell, and the sounds.

_Beep, beep, beep._

That meant he was alive.

Suddenly, he remembered why he was there. The panic gripped his body, shaking him to the very core of his being. Was Emilia beeping, too? Or…

_No, no, no, don’t think._

Not thinking was easier than he had imagined it to be. He was numb and so, so exhausted, physically and mentally. His body drifted again…in and out…in and out…in and –

Voices rang in the back of his head, familiar voices, but they felt so distant now. They began as nothing more than vibrations, but gradually the words took shape, growing louder and clearer.

Hal – he recognized Hal’s voice, his speech pattern. Thranduil couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, or where the sounds were coming from, but the tone was frantic, on edge. The kind of tone that had lost all control.

He heard crying, sobbing. The sound of a struggle. A child, confused and scared. That was what drew his eyes open.

He was spoken to by Hal, or was it someone else? He couldn’t be sure. Flashes of light blond hair caught Thranduil’s attention, but he didn’t move his head. He couldn’t look. He was afraid to look. Afraid to see his son’s face; afraid of his expressions, his behavior and what it would mean. The look in Legolas’s eyes would tell him the truth, confirm his worst fears.

Emilia was dead.

He knew it. Deep down, he knew it was the truth. But his mind rejected it.

_She’s fine. She’s going to recover… but her face… you saw her face… her body… it was… mangled beyond recognition… no, no, she’ll be fine. Legolas is just in a state of shock, that’s what the crying is about. She’s not dead. Don’t say it out loud. Don’t even think it._

***

Thranduil heaved out a breath. He told Bard as much as he could, as much as his mind allowed him to remember.

“There are a lot of holes, a lot of things I don’t remember,” Thranduil explained to Bard, his brows knit together in frustration.

The memories were fragmented, fractured images, and Thranduil never felt sure if what he remembered was actually the truth, or if his brain was filling in the blanks for him. And the harder he tried to remember, the more difficult it was. Like frantically digging in a shallow pond of water, the water becoming hazy and murky the more you dig, making everything unclear.

It bothered him that he could not remember, that the only thing from that night that he could recall in clarity were the events at the party and his fight with Emilia in the car. He could remember how he was out of line, how he’d said things he didn’t mean, how his words had hurt her, and how he could never take those words back now. Did those feelings skew his memories of what happened that night?

Thinking back on it was like trying to put together pieces of a dream. The pieces didn’t seem to fit, no matter how many times Thranduil tried to reorganize them. And, hell – he still blamed himself for Emilia’s death. For the death of their unborn child. It really didn’t matter if he could recall the events clearly or not. The truth still stood; Emilia and their unborn baby were dead. No amount of recollection would change that.

Grief counselors said that perhaps if Thranduil could recall the events as they unfolded then maybe he would be able to heal. He’d even considered hypnosis, but never actually went through with it. A part of him was glad that he couldn’t remember it in sequence. Maybe it was better that the images in his head were muddled.

The lump in his throat had grown so large, so painful, that his tear ducts were being affected.

_No, no, no, don’t cry. He’s seen you cry too many times already._

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, trying to fight away the wetness in his eyes. It wasn’t fair, the amount of times Bard had seen him cry; he had never witnessed such a breakdown from Bard yet. He wasn’t sure he ever would. Bard had his shit together. He didn’t seem the type of person to let his emotions get the better of him.

When Thranduil finally managed to swallow the baseball-sized lump in his throat, it made an almost deafening sound in the quiet of the room.

Bard’s voice broke the silence. “It’s okay, doll. You’re allowed to cry.”

“But I shouldn’t. It’s been so long, and I should be over it by now.”

“That’s not true. I don’t think it’s something you ever truly get over. You just learn to deal with it, I guess.”

“Well, in that case, I guess I haven’t learned to deal with it. I can’t talk about it without getting all weepy.”

“It was a fucking tragedy, Thran. You can be as weepy as you need to be. Crying is therapeutic – so go ahead, cry. You don’t have to hold back.”

So Thranduil did just that, he cried.

But for the first time in a very long time, he allowed himself to be comforted. He didn’t push Bard away like he had for so long when Hal tried to offer him support. He accepted Bard’s affection; cuddling closer and letting Bard’s arms envelop him in a warm, soothing embrace. And he cried. He let himself feel all those horrible feelings that he hated so much. The overwhelming grief, the blame, the guilt; he felt all of it.

And he wasn’t alone.

It took a few minutes before Thranduil could breathe again. With his face buried against Bard’s chest, all he could think was that his tears must have completely soaked Bard’s shirt. It was a better thought than dwelling on the past, on things he couldn’t change. As his breathing regulated, Bard stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head.

Finally, he felt brave enough to ease himself away from Bard. He sighed, taking Bard’s hand in his own.

“Thank you,” Thranduil whispered, his voice hoarse and dry. He cleared his throat and looked into Bard’s eyes.

Bard smiled at him, a warm, gentle smile. It made Thranduil’s heart flutter. “You’re welcome,” Bard said. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but something had stopped him.

Thranduil didn’t think too much of it. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Bard’s lips. “I really do appreciate your kindness.”

“I know, love. And I appreciate your honesty. What you told me must have been very difficult for you, so thank you for sharing it with me.”

“I just want you to know me better,” Thranduil reasoned. Although he failed to mention the fact that Emilia had been pregnant when she died. But not even Hal knew that. No one knew. And Thranduil wanted to keep it that way.

They sat in the quiet of the room for a few long moments. Thranduil began to stroke Bard’s arm absentmindedly, drawing little patterns on Bard’s skin. His hand made its way to Bard’s shoulder, which he kneaded and massaged as he nuzzled Bard’s neck with his nose. God, Bard smelled so good; the scent was almost intoxicating. It calmed Thranduil’s mind.

When he began to run his hands down Bard’s chest and over his ribs, Bard hummed a deep, throaty sound. He practically trembled in Thranduil’s arms.

“Yeah, baby?” Thranduil asked, unsure if Bard was okay with his touches.

“That feels so good,” Bard breathed.

With that confession, Thranduil continued to caress and stroke Bard’s chest. He let his fingers dance along Bard’s neck and collarbone, over his shoulder, down the length of his arm, to the palm of his hand. Thranduil traced little circles on Bard’s palm, sighing in contentment when Bard’s hand tightened around his fingers.

As he shifted, he noticed the relaxed expression on Bard’s face, how slack his jaw was, how it seemed his body housed no tension whatsoever. He looked completely at peace. How was it that such simple, innocent touches had the power to put Bard in such a state? Thranduil was no masseuse, so how did he manage to evoke such a response in Bard with nothing but his hands?

“God, doll,” Bard said, his voice lower than a whisper. “Your hands feel amazing.”

Suddenly, it became all too obvious.

“She never touched you,” Thranduil said. It wasn’t a question, it was his acknowledgment.

“What?” Bard shifted.

Thranduil could feel Bard’s chin move against the top of his head, so he eased away slightly so he could look at Bard. He was one-hundred percent certain Bard had heard him the first time, but he said it again. “She never touched you.” He held Bard’s gaze. “Your wi – ex-wife.”

Bard pursed his lips, inhaling a sharp breath. “Yeah, she never touched me.” The look on Bard’s face said that he was considering something, perhaps telling Thranduil more. So Thranduil stayed quiet and kept stroking his hand over Bard’s chest. Finally, Bard exhaled and spoke. “It’s like she thought I was disgusting or something. She never wanted to touch me. No hugging, no kissing…nothing. I read on the internet about something called skin hunger, and it’s the best way to describe how I feel. I was fucking starved for years…” He trailed off, probably thinking he’d said too much, but Thranduil pressed a kiss to his cheek, nodding his understanding.

“I know, baby,” he cooed. “She didn’t treat you the way you deserve. You’ve gone so long without physical contact, or...intimacy of any kind, so your body craves it.” Thranduil kissed Bard’s cheek again and then offered a smile. “I hope I can cure your skin hunger.”

Bard hummed. “This certainly helps.” He brought his hand up to Thranduil’s face, tentatively rubbing his knuckles over Thranduil’s cheek. “Can I tell you something else?”

“Of course,” Thranduil encouraged. “Anything.”

“She didn’t let me touch her either.”

“Never?”

“Not for a very long time. In the beginning things were different. Then, she changed. She didn’t want to be around me, she didn’t want me to touch her, she didn’t want to – ” Bard stopped and shook his head. He didn’t have to say it, Thranduil knew.

“Yeah, I know. Is, uh – is that why you sometimes seem hesitant to touch me? You don’t think I’ll like it? Or you think I’ll push you away?”

“Yeah, or yell at me and tell me to keep my filthy hands to myself,” Bard chuckled ruefully. He’d heard that before, then.

“I would never say that. I love when you touch me.”

Bard smiled, running his hand down Thranduil’s arm. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, it feels so good. I know we kinda rushed into things with the hand jobs and stuff, but we can take it slow if you need to.”

“I’m fine with how things have been going,” Bard said. He leaned in to kiss Thranduil on the lips. Thranduil smiled into the kiss, rubbing his nose against Bard’s. When Bard drew away, his expression sobered. “You know I don’t want to push you into anything, though. That’s why I’m a bit cautious.”

Thranduil thought of Galion. He hid his disgust by averting his eyes. “Yeah… I know why you don’t want to push me, as you put it. And I appreciate your consideration, baby, I really do.”

“I would hate myself if I forced you into a situation that made you uncomfortable, or that hurt you.”

“Like sex?”

Bard cast his eyes downward, reddening. Ah, so he’d been thinking about it, too. “Yeah, like that.”

“No rush,” Thranduil said, even though he really, really wanted Bard. Hell, if Bard asked right now, Thranduil wouldn’t say no. But something odd had taken hold of him and told him that maybe it would be better to wait. Maybe that would make sex all the more enjoyable. “It’s nice just being here with you like this.”

“I like it, too. We can take things one step at a time. But, just so you know. I do want you, don’t think I don’t.”

“I want you, too. I can’t deny it. You’re worth the wait, though.”

“So are you,” Bard hummed, tracing his thumb over Thranduil’s bottom lip. It sent shivers down Thranduil’s spine.

“So we’ll just take our time.”

Thranduil almost laughed out loud at himself. He was so sure he was going to have sex with Bard tonight; that that was something he needed in order to forge a strong bond with another person. But now he realized that it wasn’t true. It was moments like this that strengthened Thranduil’s bond with Bard. The more he opened up with words, the more he shared his emotions, the closer he felt to Bard, and the more he trusted the man beside him.

The way Bard held him, the gentle kisses Bard left in Thranduil’s hair – it all meant so much more than sex. Sure, sex was one way to express one’s feelings, but this – holding each other – felt just as intimate.

***

Thranduil shifted in Bard’s arms. He reached over to grab his iPad from the bedside table.

“What’re you doing?” Bard asked, still gently stroking Thranduil’s arm.

Thranduil entered his password and opened Safari. “Did you still want to go over that list?”

Bard hummed. “List?”

“The borderline list that you looked at online the other day… I figured now’s as good a time as any. I did tell you I’d let you know which of the traits I have from that long, awful list.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bard breathed into Thranduil’s hair, pressing a soft kiss to Thranduil’s neck. “You’re okay with that? We don’t have to do it now if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind, I want to share this stuff with you.”

“Thanks, doll. But you know you can stop at any time if it’s too much to talk about.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay. We said we’d be honest with each other, so I’m gonna be honest with you about this.” Thranduil quickly found the website and scrolled down until he found the supposed list of traits that a typical male borderline possessed.

Bard nuzzled closer so he could look at the screen as well. The sound of Bard’s soft, steady breaths helped calm Thranduil’s inner dialogue. Surely Bard wouldn’t reject him, or think poorly of him if he told the truth. He knew Bard cared about him very deeply; the truth wouldn’t scare him away. Still, Thranduil was nervous. He’d never told any previous lovers – besides Emilia – about these sorts of things. It was a sensitive subject and it wouldn’t take much for him to work himself into a state of paranoia just by thinking of what the outcome would be.

Thranduil took a deep breath before beginning.

“Okay, so, do you just want me to tell you which of these apply to me?”

“Yeah, sure, and you can feel free to expand on anything if you’d like.” Bard kneaded Thranduil’s arm and gave him a tender kiss on the cheek.

“Okay, I can do that. So…impulsivity; yes, I’m impulsive. Not as bad as I used to be, though. The most impulsive thing I do is online shopping. I don’t gamble or drive recklessly or have wild sex with everyone I meet. Passive aggression… um, I guess I can be passive aggressive at times. Sometimes it’s hard to be assertive, so I tend to give the silent treatment, or sulk or just shut down and put up the walls. Lying and stalking… I don’t stalk people, and I never have, but I’ve lied before.”

“I think everyone’s lied,” Bard said.

“Yeah, and my lies have never been big lies, just small things to protect myself. I’m certainly not a compulsive liar. Lack of empathy… I guess this applies, as much as it disgusts me to say so. I have a hard time getting out of my own head, so I can’t always empathize with people because I’m too busy worrying about myself. Poor self-worth, yes. Drug and alcohol abuse… not really, although I used to do various drugs when I was younger…”

“What drugs did you do?”

“I smoked a lot of pot in high school and the beginning of college, and I did ecstasy in high school, but not very often – maybe a total of five times. I tried cocaine when I was seventeen, and it gave me the worst panic attack, so I never did it again. And, yeah, that’s it. Oh, and I still drink alcohol. Sometimes I overdo it, I know that. When shit gets hard, I hit the bottle.”

“Shit’s been hard for you lately, doll, but I think you’re handling it pretty well. You’re functioning and you’re not wasted every day.”

“Yeah, only once in a while, so I guess that’s a good thing,” Thranduil said, turning to press a kiss to Bard’s temple before looking back to the screen. “Extramarital affairs; no. I haven’t cheated on anyone, nor would I ever. Rageful outbursts; this is a yes. Depression and suicidal ideation; yes to both. Inability to tolerate difficult emotions or self-soothe; yes. Self-harming behaviors; yes. Cognitive distortion and projections…um, probably yes to that, too.” Thranduil stopped to take a breath. He hoped this wasn’t too much for Bard to handle. “God, so many yeses.”

“It’s okay, Thran. It means a lot to me that you’re opening up to me about this. I’m not gonna judge you, and I’m not going to leave you, so there’s nothing to worry about.” Bard put his arm around Thranduil, rubbing Thranduil’s shoulder in soothing motions.

“Thanks, baby. I hope I don’t scare you off,” Thranduil said.

“Not possible. So, keep going.”

Thranduil offered a small smile. “Okay. Splitting; yes. Physical –”

“Wait, hold on. What exactly is splitting? Like, two personalities?”

Thranduil grinned and shook his head. “No, not two personalities. It’s something that happens in relationships – doesn’t matter if it’s a family member, a friend, a lover – actually it could be anyone. It’s like a ‘love you, hate you’ thing – going from idealizing and worshipping a person, to devaluing or resenting them. For me, it usually happens after someone has done something that I perceive as a personal slight. So, for example, once I split on Hal. I texted him and he didn’t text me back for a day or so, and when he did text me back he said he was sorry and that he was hanging out with a friend and that I just needed to calm down, or something – I don’t remember his exact words. But this offended me and I know it sounds bad, but I got stuck in my head and figured that I was worthless, and there was no point in being friends with Hal if he could so easily replace me with someone else. So I was pissed off and I got angry at him and told him to fuck off and leave me alone forever. In hindsight, I see how ridiculous it was, but at the time, I felt it was justified. It’s a defense mechanism, essentially – a way to protect myself from getting hurt. So, yeah, that’s splitting. It can happen for different reasons for different people, though.”

“So, someone does something that hurts you, and you drop them,” Bard concluded. “Even if they didn’t mean to hurt you at all.”

Thranduil cringed. “Yeah, I know, it’s bad. I haven’t done it in a while though.”

“Do you promise you’ll tell me if I do something that causes this splitting to happen?”

“Yes,” Thranduil said with a nod.

“‘Cause I really don’t want my sweet doll to hate me,” Bard said, kissing Thranduil’s jaw. Those words, in combinations with Bard’s soft, gentle tone, made Thranduil’s heart feel like it would burst.

“I’ll tell you, baby. I promise. I would never want to hate you.” Thranduil stroked Bard’s hair, offering a warm smile. Besides Emilia and Hal, no one had ever cared to learn these things about Thranduil. And he had never felt safe enough to talk about such personal matters with his past lovers. Most of those relationships were so short lived that he never got to share such information. Usually it would take months before Thranduil felt like he could talk about his mental illness, but with Bard it felt natural. It felt right to share every aspect of himself with Bard.

This was what love should look like; no judgments, just understanding and acceptance. It was a strange, unfamiliar concept, but Thranduil liked it.

“What’s next?” Bard prompted, taking Thranduil’s hand in his.

Thranduil looked back at the screen. “Physical volatility or violence,” he said, making a face. He’d never been violent towards anyone, but he knew that his emotions could lead to quite volatile physical displays of anger. “Well, I’m not violent towards other people. I tend to internalize my violence and I take things out on myself. I’ve broken things before in a blind fit of rage.” God, those were definitely the wrong words to use, but it was too late now. He didn’t give Bard a chance to speak before he uttered the next item on the list. “Rebound relationships. Yeah, I guess that applies to me. Anxiety or OCD issues; yes to that. Self sabotage in personal or professional realms. Um, probably another yes.” Thranduil swallowed hard, all too aware of just how fast he spoke.

Bard didn’t say anything, just stroked his thumb over the back of Thranduil’s hand, providing the comfort and reassurance Thranduil needed to continue.

Thranduil snorted at the next trait. It was in italics. “An incapacity to want you unless they can’t have you. I don’t know if this is entirely true for me. I’ve never really thought about it before. I have you, and I still want you, so yeah…”

“Sweet doll,” Bard cooed, playing with the ends of Thranduil’s hair. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“Baby,” Thranduil grinned, nuzzling his face against Bard’s cheek. “You’re distracting me.”

“I just want you to know that you’re safe with me and it’s okay to open up.”

“Thank you,” Thranduil breathed, letting Bard’s stubble tickle the soft skin of his lips. He looked back at the list. “Extreme jealousy; yes – to a degree. Narcissism or grandiosity…” He chuckled. “A lot of people think I’m narcissistic, but I’m not. I don’t think I’m the fucking shit, I don’t think I deserve special treatment or that I’m amazing and wonderful and everyone should bow down before me. I do put on a sort of narcissistic act sometimes, though. Especially when meeting with potential clients. I have to give off the impression that my art is worth what I say it’s worth, so I tend to take on a haughty air. But that’s just a persona. I’m actually very insecure. Um, next is black-or-white thinking. This definitely applies.”

“Black or white… meaning? One extreme or the other?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s either all good or all bad, there is no in between.”

“Ah, okay, that makes sense.”

“Verbal exhibitionism or incessant talking. Not really. I don’t talk that much and I’m not a verbal exhibitionist. But I do like to be naked.”

Bard chuckled. “That’s a different kind of exhibitionism. Except...” Bard looked at Thranduil through his lashes, trailing a finger down Thranduil’s chest. “You’re not naked right now.”

“What a pity,” Thranduil gave a soft laugh, drawing Bard’s hand away from his chest, bringing it up to his lips to kiss. If Bard kept touching him, he’d never be able to get through all the traits on the list. “Next is codependency. That’s a half yes, half no. Then we have sarcasm. Oh, sarcasm is _such_ a horrible quality to have!” Thranduil joked, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, yes, just the absolute worst,” Bard grinned.

“Control issues, yeah, probably. As you know, I had no control in my previous…relationship, if it’s even worth being called a relationship. So, I guess that’s still considered a control issue.”

Bard hummed quietly, a sound that told Thranduil he knew exactly what it was like to have his control robbed from him as well. Thranduil gave Bard’s hand a light squeeze before he proceeded.

“Eating disorders… not really. Sometimes I eat too much because food is pleasurable and I enjoy losing myself in the taste. Emotional blackmail, suicide threats….” Thranduil took a deep breath. This one was a bitch, and he hated to admit the truth. “Um, well... Yes, I’ve made suicide threats before.”

“Have you ever…” Bard trailed off and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even ask that.” Thranduil knew exactly what he wanted to ask.

“Have I ever tried to kill myself?”

“You don’t have to answer that, Thran.”

“Well, I’m laying it all on the line right now, so I might as well be honest about this, too.” Thranduil hoped to every god that Bard wouldn’t freak out upon knowing the truth. “Yes, I’ve tried to kill myself before.” He heard Bard swallow. “Twice.”

The expression on Bard’s face was a mix of sympathy and concern, but Thranduil broke eye contact and looked away quickly. It was never easy talking about suicide, but he did not worry about his own discomfort. Instead, he worried about just how uncomfortable this must be for Bard.

“You don’t have to pity me, though. It is what it is and now it’s in the past. Nothing more than a memory.”

Bard was slow to offer a nod and a kiss to Thranduil’s cheek. By the look on his face, Thranduil got the impression that he was curious to know more. That wasn’t uncommon; most people were.

“You want to know why I did it? What led me to thinking there was no way out other than death?”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious, but it’s not my place to ask and you shouldn’t feel like you have to share it with me.”

“I think you’re allowed to be curious. We’re together and you want to know things about me; it’s only natural. And I don’t mind telling you. It’s obvious that you’re not going to make me feel like shit about it.”

“You’re safe here, doll,” Bard said, kneading his fingers into Thranduil’s upper arm.

Was he actually about to tell Bard about the times he felt so low, so hopeless, that his only salvation was the thought of death? That there seemed no solution for his mental and emotional anguish other than taking his own life? Was he really about to tell Bard about those times? If this backfired in his face, he would never forgive himself.

For a second, he let the thoughts flood in. So long he’d gone without thinking of those moments. He’d tried so hard to erase them from his memory, to pretend they never happened at all. It was nothing more than a glitch in the system. His mind was not a system, though – and these times were real, very real.

His breath caught for a moment as he thought about the first time he’d ever experienced depression – real, clinical depression – the kind that grips its claws into you, pulling you down, deeper and deeper into the void of nothingness. It was a feeling he wouldn’t wish upon anyone. That was the first time he’d ever felt like a living corpse, merely going through the motions. He’d stayed in bed for weeks; not eating, missing school, isolating himself. He didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge his parents, didn’t even leave his room. The darkness had grown to be so overwhelming that it threatened to swallow him whole, and that’s when he tried it. That’s when he decided it was all too much. He’d found a box cutter in his house. But he had been stupid about it. His parents were home. And all Thranduil did was manage to make his father hate him even more.

The second time he’d tried to take his own life was after Emilia had died. If he thought he’d known the deepest despair of his life when he was a teenager, he was in for a rude awakening after his wife died. It was the worst feeling he’d ever experienced. Nothing else compared. His emotions had shifted so rapidly within the months following Emilia’s death. He’d gone from being completely numb, to being assaulted with a torrent of emotions that he was helpless to control. And at the end of the day, he’d felt nothing but emptiness and guilt and shame and self-loathing. Even Legolas didn’t have the power to stop Thranduil from what he’d tried to do.

He sighed and realized he’d been sitting in silence for quite some time. He was relieved to have Bard beside him, waiting patiently for him to find the courage to speak.

How was Bard going to feel about all this? Thranduil couldn’t be sure and he wouldn’t know until he opened up. He decided to keep it short and sweet, as to not scare Bard out of his life in the process.

He swallowed hard and he cleared his throat before he spoke. “The first time was in high school. I think I was about sixteen. I don’t even remember why I was so depressed, but whatever it was, was what led me to cut myself quite badly.”

Thranduil exhaled, noticing the way Bard’s grip grew tighter, more protective. “I had to get stitches and staples, and I stayed in the psychiatric ward in the hospital for a few weeks. That was my first time there. And the second time was about nine months after Emilia died. I took sleeping pills and chugged a bottle of wine. I guess I didn’t really want to die since I told Hal what I was doing, and he called an ambulance. I had to eat charcoal at the hospital and it was fucking disgusting.”

“Eat charcoal?”

“Yeah, to essentially stop the pills from killing me.”

Bard winced and rested his head on Thranduil’s shoulder. “I’m glad Hal called that ambulance,” he whispered into Thranduil’s hair.

“So am I, although sometimes I’m reluctant to admit it.”

“You’ve been through a lot, Thran, and I’m not sure you realize just how strong you are.”

“Don’t say that,” Thranduil grunted.

“Why not? It’s true. The things you’ve gone through must have been really difficult to deal with. I can’t even imagine; but you’re strong, you’re a fighter and you’re here. I’m so grateful that you’re here and that I’m lucky enough to be able to spend time getting to know you. I fall in love with you more every day.”

“Bard,” Thranduil croaked, unsuccessfully trying to swallow the lump in his throat. It felt like someone stuffed a massive ball of cotton into his mouth. It was itchy and it tickled the back of his throat with each breath he took. “You’re gonna make me all emotional.”

“It’s okay, baby doll. You can be as emotional as you need to be. I accept you as you are and I love you.”

A soft hum escaped Thranduil’s lips and he didn’t hesitate to bury his face into the crook of Bard’s neck. “I love you, too.”

“Things are going to be better now,” Bard said softly. “I promise.”

“I hope things will be better for you, too.”

“They already are.” Bard cupped Thranduil’s face and pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

The sweet taste of Bard’s lips was enough to make Thranduil lightheaded, and he quickly lost himself in the feeling of Bard’s warm embrace and gentle touches. When he finally pulled away, he looked back at the screen of the iPad. “Should we keep going? There are a few things left on this list…” He needed to distract himself from the spell Bard had seemed to cast upon him.

“It’s okay. The rest isn’t important. I know it must be hard to talk about, so we can just leave it.”

Thranduil nodded and nestled himself against Bard’s chest.

Eventually, he sat up, easing himself out of Bard’s arms. He had to go make sure Legolas was in bed. There was a lot to do tomorrow and he knew Legolas would not be cooperative unless he was well rested. He sighed and slid off the bed.

“I gotta go put the leaf to bed,” he told Bard.

Bard’s eyes fluttered open. “Of course,” he replied, smiling at Thranduil. “Go ahead. I’ll be here.”

Thranduil nodded and made his way to Legolas’s bedroom.

“Leaf? Are you in bed?” He asked, knocking before poking his head into his son’s room. Legolas was lying in bed with a book in his hands.

“Yeah, Ada. I’ve already brushed my teeth and everything. I’m just reading.”

“You didn’t want to watch the ball drop? It happens in half an hour,” Thranduil said, looking at the time on Legolas’s clock radio.

Legolas made a dismissive sound. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Yeah, it’s late. We’ve gotta be up early tomorrow because I want to take stuff to the house.”

“We’re gonna go? With Bard?” Legolas asked, placing a bookmark in his book and setting it on his bedside table.

“If he wants to. I’m not sure what he has planned tomorrow. He might have to get back to his kids, you know.” Thranduil sat beside Legolas on the bed.

“Maybe Tilda can come, too?” Legolas looked at him with expectant eyes. All Thranduil saw were Emilia’s eyes. He sighed, blinking to get the image out of his head.

“I can ask,” Thranduil said, running a hand through Legolas’s hair before pressing a kiss on his forehead. “Night, little leaf. I love you.” He swallowed hard, giving Legolas another kiss on the head before tucking him in.

“Love you, too. Night, Ada.”

After turning off Legolas’s lamp, he headed back to his room. He felt emotionally drained. He’d opened up about so much tonight; it left him feeling exhausted. He couldn’t get Emilia out of his head. He knew what he was in for when he agreed to talk about the accident and her death. He knew exactly how it would make him feel, but maybe that was part of healing. Maybe it was something he needed to do to in order to move on. Moving on felt like betrayal, though, like he was leaving Emilia behind. He no longer wanted to dwell on it. He had to distract himself.

He crawled on the bed bedside Bard, who was looking through the photo album again. Bard looked up, wound a hand in Thranduil’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss. Thranduil hummed and kissed back, cupping Bard’s face in both hands. Kissing was a good distraction.

So why did it make him feel guilty?

“Legolas was wondering if you’d like to come to the house tomorrow with us…” Thranduil said. “But if you’re busy that’s okay…”

“When are you going?” Bard asked, moving the photo album off his lap.

“Probably first thing in the morning. There’s so much to do and I wanted to take over all the things I can before bringing in the moving people.”

“If we used my truck we could transport stuff a lot quicker,” Bard suggested. “I’d have to see what the children have planned for tomorrow. Ma might want to keep them for the day. Bain will probably go out with friends. Sig might, too. So in that case, yeah, I’d be able to come along.”

“Legolas wants to see Tilda again, too,” Thranduil said.

“I’m sure Tilda won’t protest the idea. She’ll be ecstatic to see Legolas again. We can figure it out in the morning. Ma is always up early so I’ll give her a call.”

“Sounds good to me.” Thranduil stretched out on the bed next to Bard, easing himself into his boyfriend’s arms once again. He yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his arm.

“Tired, doll?”

“Mmhmm. Time for bed, so I’m not a big old grouch in the morning.”

Bard shifted beside him, craning his neck to look over at the clock on the bedside table. He turned to Thranduil with a smile. “Just one thing before we get ready for bed.” He brushed Thranduil’s hair out of his face and leaned in, kissing Thranduil deeply. When he eased away, he said, “Happy New Year, doll.”

Thranduil captured Bard’s lips in another all-consuming kiss. “Happy New Year, my sweetest love.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and I wanted to mention that I might be slow at updating this again because I've joined camp nanowrimo so I'll be working on a new barduil fic for July! But I'll still be writing the next chapter for this story, too!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!  
> Comments and kudos give me life and motivate me to continue :)  
> <3333


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